


Waltz

by nishiki



Series: Dancing in the dark [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Edward nurses Oswald back to health, Falling In Love, Jealous Edward Nygma, M/M, Major Character Injury, POV Edward Nygma, Permanent Injury, Prosthesis, Slow Build, dancer Oswald, posessive Edward Nygma, post torture, probably, singer Oswald, socially awkward Edward, the aftermath of Part 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14602836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: The first time Edward sees Oswald Cobblepot, he is mopping the floors of Fish Mooney's nightclub. Months later, he finds him missing a leg and on the verge of death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the series will probably a little longer than Tango. Maybe it will be followed up by a third part even (from Oswald's POV this time). This story might be slower than the first and it will deal with themes of torture (Fish beating Oswald up), amputation and the healing process after a major injury. I hope you are not scared off by this. I plan for this story and the relationship to be pretty sweet, actually. Updates might be a bit slower because of my other story (The Ice cream test)

The first time he saw Oswald Cobblepot, he was mopping the floors at Fish Mooney's nightclub.

This incident in and of itself would not have been of any importance under different circumstances. However, what gave this encounter its importance and subsequently caused Edward Nygma to remember the incident from then on, was the fact that Oswald was dancing as he cleaned the beer-stained floorboards.

Ed was by no means a regular guest at Mooney's establishment or any nightclub for that matter. He was not really a person who liked to go out and explore Gotham's nightlife as many other young men his age would. Usually, Ed preferred the seclusion and solitude of his own home. So, the fact that he actually followed the invitation of one of his colleagues to meet up with him and a few others for a couple of drinks at Mooney's after work was in itself a miracle. And even more so the fact that he stayed until closing time while the others had already left over an hour ago.

It wasn't the music or the atmosphere or, God forbid, the good company of his colleagues that had kept him at the club for so long. Quite the contrary, actually. The music was tasteless, some weird mix of punk and pop that he could not fully even grasp. The atmosphere overbearing with its heavy colors of reds and golds all around like something from an old movie. The drinks were much too expensive for what was in them. And the company he did have at the beginning of the night lacking in enthusiasm whenever he actually did try to make small-talk.

Ed had been all too quick to realize that this invitation that had been extended towards him by his fellow scientists had been nothing more than the cheap attempt of being polite to the weird riddle guy. After all, he was only working for the GCPD for two years now. In other words, they had certainly never had the opportunity to invite him for drinks yet. Still, despite knowing the pettiness of this attempt of being polite, Ed had begun this evening in good spirits and eager to make new friends and prove to those idiots that he was indeed a nice guy. In retrospect, he should have known that it was of no use.

His colleagues had hardly even spoken to him the entire evening, in the end. Besides that, however, Ed had decided to stay and get utterly wasted for once in his miserable little life. At the time, this had seemed to be a good idea to him but he had started to regret the decision when the bouncer had kicked him out of the club later because he had refused to leave as the club was closing down, too enthralled by the young man with the mop.

Edward Nygma was a man who had always played by the rules in his life. Or at least he had tried to. So, going out to get drunk with his colleagues was completely out of the norm for him under normal circumstances wouldn't it have been for him trying to become a part of this group. He had never indulged in any kind of social activities after work either. It wasn't so much that he had never wanted to but he knew that he was certainly not the most well-liked person at the GCPD. It wasn't always easy to make friends when you do not fit into the definition of being normal in the eyes of those around you. This too was not exactly a new revelation for Edward. He had always been the odd one out of a group.

Maybe he had put too much hope in this evening whether intentionally or not. His disappointment at the end had been much bigger than he would have anticipated in the beginning. Still, a part of him just wanted to fit in and be a part of the larger group. So, in retrospect, maybe it hadn't been so much the fact that he had seen Oswald dance during his cleanup as it had been for the fact that Oswald had made the attempt actually talking to him. It hadn't been much really. Just a little ‘hello’ in passing, just a small ‘How are you?’. But to Edward, this had meant the world.

It was this that actually made a difference in his life for once. That in and of itself was sad enough, he assumed. Still, for once in his life he had been seen as an actual person, an actual human being with the need for human interaction. Maybe Oswald hadn't even been aware of the effect that he had had on Edward that night. But from then on, Ed became a regular guest at Mooney's.

It was stupid, of course, yet Ed enjoyed just sitting there and not talk to anyone because in Fish Mooney's bar no one questioned who he was or what he was looking for. He went in late after work every night, not even two hours before closing and waited until everyone else would leave and the bar would get cleaned up. Every time he came to the bar, he hoped to bear witness to the young man is the ridiculously fancy suit dancing with them mop again. Needless to say, Ed never gathered the courage to actually talk to him. And the young man who was called Oswald by his colleagues, as Ed had once overheard, never expressed the desire to talk to him either. And why would he? Ed was certainly not ugly but he was not the most handsome example of the male species either.

Maybe this guy, Oswald, wasn't the most commonly attractive man in the eyes of most but to Edward, he was gorgeous the way he would dance with the mop in his hands when he thought that no one would see him. Then again, he was certain that Oswald probably didn't even care of anyone would see him dance with the mop.

This particular expression only got stronger when Ed found Oswald at the local park weeks later. By now, it was late December and Gotham was resting under a thick blanket of snow. He had tried talking to Oswald at least five times by now and by this point, Oswald was certainly convinced that he was a stalker. And if he had not thought Edward to be a stalker to this day, his opinion would certainly change by the end of it.

It was pure coincidence that Edward had decided to do some shopping on his day off in preparation for Christmas so that he might escape the horror that would wait for him at the stores the closer they got to the holidays. Even greater was the coincidence that Edward had decided to stray from his usual path and take a stroll through that quiet little park on his way home despite the fact that it was a much longer way to go.

It was pure coincidence too that he walked past the duck pond.

As Ed first noticed the person skating on the ice, he didn't think too much about it, if at all. It was not rare to see people skating on the frozen pond at all, but for some reason he found himself stopping and watching the skater anyway. This early in the day, the park was almost deserted but even if it weren’t he would have stopped and stared anyway.

Ed wasn't sure whether he should blame the oh so very magical Christmas season or his own oddly wired brain that made it easier for him to spew out riddles instead of small talk which ultimately led him to pause and watch the figure skater. Either way, he didn't regret the decision as soon as the person in question whirled around skillfully, sending bits and pieces of ice flying everywhere only to reveal a rather familiar face to Edward in the process.

It shouldn't come as that much of a surprise to Ed that this lovely man from Fish Mooney's nightclub not only danced rather skillfully with a mop and a broom but on ice too. He found himself mesmerized by the sight. Suddenly, it seemed rather fitting to him that a man like Oswald was a figure skater in his free time.

His skin was as white as snow and his eyes as cold as ice. They had never touched but Ed, in his weirdly wired brain, was sure that Oswald's touch had to be rather cold. Not unpleasantly so, he might add. In fact, he could already feel the shivers of excitement running down his spine as he imagined Oswald's fingers on his own skin.

He kept watching without realizing it as he stood there, his arms full with bags of groceries and other supplies, next to an abandoned bench and a willow tree that was moaning under the weight of centuries. Only barely did he notice the bag that was lying on top of the bench without actually registering it.

While he stood there, his glasses foggy from his own breath and the cold air, and watched Oswald dance, he could not help but to imagine how Oswald would feel in his arms. He wondered how it would feel to wake up next to him, how it would feel to have those elegant long fingers ghost over his skin or how soft his moans would sound when Edward would go down on him to drive him mad with pleasure.

Ed had always been the type of guy who fell in love too quickly only to come out heartbroken on the other side. This was more than a silly infatuation though, more than the occasional crush he would experience with a beautiful woman he would come across at the grocery shop or in the middle of the street. This was being utterly smitten by another human being and Oswald's perfect lack of perfection.

His nose was crooked and too long for his otherwise quite delicate face. He had too many oddly scattered freckles on the bridge of his nose and underneath his eyes. His hair was a complete nightmare. He was always ridiculously overdressed. Yet, everything that might make him ugly in the eyes of other people made him devastatingly stunning in Ed's eyes.

Maybe he had just a weird taste in beauty - that he would never deny. Still, Oswald with his lily white skin, his raven black hair, and his fierce blue eyes were the exact image of human beauty in Ed’s mind. Especially now as he was focused solely on his skating routine as if the rest of the world wouldn't even exist. Ed had always considered figure skating to be beautiful but now he was unable to tear his eyes away from Oswald and it wasn't long until Edward was noticed by the young man on the ice as well.

His staring was not welcome it seemed because Oswald did not waste time to slowly walk off the ice to confront him with his back straight and his chin held high. He was a man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted in life and that was damn attractive to Edward. Oswald was a man who knew of his imperfections and yet did not shy away to stand his ground. Ed, on the other hand, was awkward and wouldn't know what to say half the time.

»You are the guy from Miss Mooney's club.« It was not a question. Not by a long shot. »What are you? A cop or just some plain old stalker?« He sounded inquisitive, suspicious, almost. As if he was trying to figure out Ed’s motives for stalking him.

Ed would not deny that Oswald's approach to him and this situation took him a little by surprise as the much smaller man walked up to the bench beside Edward. Only then did Ed fully grasp that the bag resting on top of the bench had to be Oswald’s. The young man’s inquisitive gaze never left him as he started to unlace his skates as soon as he reached the bench and sat down on the certainly damp wood.

»So which one is it? Stalker or cop?« He continued after Ed had not found it in himself to answer. No matter what his answer would be, however, Oswald seemed not the slightest intimidated by Ed. »If you are a cop, I would advise you not to ask me anything about my boss. I do not intend on snitching on her anytime soon. If you are a stalker, though, you should be warned that I am under Fish Mooney's protection. So if you plan on doing anything to me, think again for Miss Mooney will not hesitate to avenge me - horrifically.«

Ed wasn't naive. He couldn't be in a job like his and not know who Fish Mooney was. He knew that her club was mob owned as everybody did at the precinct. However, that Oswald was working for the mob only made him more interesting if anything. Unlike what most of his colleagues thought of him, Edward had always felt drawn to the darker side of things. Thus his interest in pathology - much to the GCPD’s actual pathologist dismay and frustration.

He had always enjoyed the darkness in others, had always been drawn towards it and Oswald … Well, his inner monster shining through was just so very delicious. He wondered if Oswald was even aware that he could see what he truly looked like on the inside. Oswald seemed to be a man playing off the fact that people used to underestimate him. It was easy to do just that too, just as people liked to underestimate Edward most of the time. Oswald was small and thin, hardly a threat as it could seem at first glance.

»I'm neither.« Ed finally replied and Oswald's stare became an annoyed glare at his words now.

»What do you want then?« He shot back right away - or rather snarled through his teeth as he shoved his skates in the bag. Even in the depths of winter, walking through a snowy park, Oswald wore the same expensive looking polished dress-shoes he would wear at the club.

»The poor have me, the rich need me and when you eat me you'll die.«

»Is that … Are you asking me a riddle?« He seemed honestly confused now, his brows furrowed first only to almost vanish in his hairline the next moment.

»Do you like riddles?« It was the first conversation he had with Oswald and being so close to him now, Ed could almost count the ridiculous amount of freckles on his pale face which were splashed over his skin oddly.

»No.«

He wasn't surprised. This was, sadly, most people's reaction to his riddles. At least it was honest. No one seemed overly fond of them. Yet, Ed was of the conviction that a good riddle could tell a person a lot about the person asking the riddle and the answer sometimes just so happened to reveal unspoken truths about the person who gave it.

»Nothing.« He quickly replied before Oswald could murder him. »The answer is nothing.«

»Who even are you? First, you came to the club almost every night for six weeks straight.« Ed’s heart began to flutter in his chest as Oswald revealed to him that he had indeed noticed Edward. »And now I meet you here. Surely, you are not believing me stupid enough to think this could be pure coincidence. Are you working for the GCPD? Private Investigator perhaps? Who are you and what do you want?«

»I'm Edward. Edward Nygma.« He was quick to answer with a smile he hoped looked pleasant before his chance to talk to Oswald would slip away from him again while the other man already rose back to his feet. »And you are right in that I am working for the GCPD. But I am no cop, just forensics. And though it's true that it was a coincidence that I found you here just now, I am glad for the chance of being able to talk to you now.« Oswald's stare changed from annoyed to confused as he pursed his lips just a little. Before the young mobster could say a thing, though, Edward hurriedly continued. »I wanted to talk to you for a while now but never quite knew how to make the first step. I wanted to ask you … If you would go out with me by any chance. Dinner … perhaps. I am a great cook, so-«

»Let me interrupt you right there, my friend.« Oswald tried to sound friendly as he raised one hand sharply to cut Edward off but they both knew that there was nothing that could lessen the sting of his next words. »I feel flattered, but I do have a boyfriend.«

He shouldn't be surprised, yet he was hurt and angry anyway. Angry at himself for not acting sooner. He remembered that one night when he had finally scooped up the courage to talk to Oswald and waited for him outside and he remembered the young man with the dirty blonde hair standing just on the other side with an umbrella - the same young man he had seen weeks prior to this in the club too. He should have known. Up until now, he had never intentionally recognized the man but now, looking back and searching his memory, Ed was quite sure that he had seen the blonde man almost every night when he had been forced to leave the club, waiting just outside.

Edward had never felt like a bigger idiot than now as Oswald grabbed his bag, bid him farewell and left him behind to brood. It wasn’t Oswald’s fault that he was hurt and angry, that he wished he could rip that other man’s head off cleanly so that he would have a chance with Oswald. And it wasn’t Oswald’s fault either, that Edward could hardly fight against his unhealthy obsession with the smaller man that would most certainly lead Ed down a darker path sooner or later.

The next time Edward Nygma saw Oswald Cobblepot, the young mobster was missing a leg and was dying of fever and infection in some dirty alleyway.

 

- **End of Chapter 1** -


	2. Chapter 2

Normally, Edward would walk home from work straight away these days. He much preferred walking over being stuck in his small car in the busy streets of Gotham during rush hour. Being the workaholic that he undeniably was, Ed had chosen an old renovated and converted factory as his place of residence close to the precinct of the Gotham City Police Department. 

It was rare for him to walk home during rush hour, though. Ed Nygma was one of the few people in his department who did not feel a painful aversion to working over time.

It wasn't as if he would have any kind of personal life anyway. And since everyone at the station seemed to know that, he was more often than not the person who got called to assist on cases. Though no one seemed particularly eager to work with him, not even the new guy, Detective James Gordon, whose presence alone was a painful reminder of one Oswald Cobblepot every day.

He had recognized Jim as the young man waiting for Oswald in front of Fish Mooney’s bar night after night the moment he had been introduced to all of them by the captain a few months ago. Sadly, it had been all too easy to connect the dots and recognize James Gordon as the boyfriend of Oswald - especially since Ed had seen Jim time and time again in front of the club, waiting for the object of both their desire.

Thinking back on it now, it was hardly a surprise that Oswald had preferred Jim over someone like Ed. 

He was by no means ugly, but Jim had all the charm of a knight in shining armor and that simply was something Edward could not compete with. He, for instance, was odd and everyone could see how socially inept he truly was thanks to years and years and years of abuse first by his parents and later by other kids in school and then, ultimately, by his coworkers. 

Still, these days he found himself looking with disgust at James. Oswald had vanished four months ago from Ed’s radar and was very likely dead by this point. Yet, just a week ago, the gossip column of the Gotham Gazette had announced the engagement of one James Gordon and a young socialite named Barbara Kean who couldn't be any more different from Oswald even if she would try to be. 

If Oswald was dead, Ed could only blame his association with a cop for that and still, Jim, as if he was oblivious to all of that, was sipping champagne on his engagement party tonight. As if Oswald had meant nothing to him at all. Surely, he didn't even know that he was at least half of Hungarian descent since his mother had immigrated from Hungary in her late teens or that his mother had worked as a cook almost her whole life while raising her son all alone in this unforgiving city. 

There were many things Ed had taken note of that Jim surely wasn't aware of when it came to Oswald. Maybe his obsession was borderline unhealthy, yes, creepy, he would not deny that. And although a voice in the back of his head begged him to shift his attention on someone who was actually alive, like Miss Kringle, he could not help himself. The moment he had seen Oswald dance on the ice was still playing in his dreams almost every night on repeat, constantly reminding him of the second he truly fell in love with this stranger. 

Oswald's mother had died one month ago. A stroke, the small obituary that her priest had let the Gotham Gazette print, had stated. Ed knew better than the few people that had gone to her funeral, though. Miss Kapelput had died of a broken heart as she had realized that her son would never return to her while the MCU was investigating his possible death.

Agent Montoya seemed to have a special interest in Oswald’s disappearance these days, from what Ed had gathered by listening in on conversations around the station, and her focus seemed to rest solely on Jim for that matter. Edward couldn't deny that he would love to see Jim being put behind bars for Oswald's death. Still, Miss Kapelput had died only days after talking to Montoya and her partner Allen. He hadn't been there, but he was sure that they had made her understand that her son was dead, maybe even that her son had been involved with the mob. In the end, it was impossible to say which of those information had led to her death. 

Every time Ed had seen her out and about these past months, she had been so proud of her son when talking to her very few friends, telling stories of her beautiful, elegant little boy who would surely someday be someone of importance in this town. She had to have been crushed by the news that her wonderful little boy had been a criminal. 

For all of this, he blamed Gordon. Even for the lack of flowers on Miss Kapelput’s gravesite whenever Ed would visit it, while James was living the good life now with his rich fiance. He felt sick every time he would look at him while he tried to press his lips into a pleasant smile and make friends with him all the same. 

After all, it was always wise to keep your enemies close and if he wanted to find dirt on Jim’s immaculate résumé, he could do this best as Jim’s friend, he supposed. 

Walking home, Ed always walked past the same shops and the same narrow alleys that were winding through this town like an endless maze that led deeper into the bowels of Gotham. He had stayed later tonight as it was his habit, for at home nothing but his books and his old rabbit-ear TV were waiting for him anyway. So, he had taken the job his coworker had been too lazy for with glee as it had allowed him a bit of alone time in the morgue. 

He had always wanted to be a pathologist but no one seemed to acknowledge his talent for it. For his colleagues, he was just weird ol’ Ed who liked to play with the bodies in the morgue. They all liked to ignore the fact that it were the results that _he_ would find that usually managed to solve a case. Outside it was dark now as he wandered down these familiar streets but Gotham was still just as lively as during the daytime. It was a city that never slept, only the crowds of people he came across was different but the hurry with that they were all going about their business did not change. 

His apartment building, the former meat processing factory that had once been owned by some distant relative of Carmine Falcone, already came into sight as Ed was suddenly stopped by a rather unusual sound coming from the alleyway between some old run down motel and a dirty looking Irish pub where people played poker in the backroom on Saturdays. First, he was not sure what exactly it was he had heard, but when the sound came again, he realized that it sounded like a moan - and surely not like the good kind.

He paused in his steps and was surprised by his own reaction. Usually, he did not care much what happened in the streets or to the people around him. Surely, just a bum going about his business. He wanted to move on as the sound came again for a third time now and sounded, this time, a lot more agonizing, a lot like someone who was in a great deal of pain.

Still, this was none of his business a darker voice in the back of his mind reminded him quietly and tried to force his legs into motion. Ed was certainly not a bad guy, but he was not the most caring or compassionate man either. Despite better judgment, however, Edward slowly stepped into the shadows of the alleyway. He was highly aware of the fact that this was how horror movies started and that he was leaving the false sense of security of the poorly lit streets of his neighborhood behind to dive into the darkness of the alley. He had never been much of a coward though.

He had never been an exceptionally brave man either, otherwise, he would have become a cop and not a forensic scientist. 

As he slowly moved closer towards the recurring sounds coming from further down the alley he decided to call out for whoever seemed to be in need of help. The sounds sounded like a man although this was not always easy to tell and the voice was not exceptional dark either. Still, his gut told him that it was a man. He said to himself that he only needed to see if the person was in need of medical help so that he could call an ambulance and thus fulfill his duty as a good citizen of this city. Not that he would much care about being a good citizen. 

»Hello?« He called out loud enough to be heard but not louder than necessary. »Sir? Do you need help? Are you injured?« He couldn't see much despite the few neon lamps along the damp walls of the buildings to each side and almost stumbled over something on the ground. In the flickering light of a small lamp over the backdoor exit of the pub, he finally found the person who had produced the sounds, sitting hunched over right next to the garbage cans of the pub.

He was a scrawny, unkempt looking figure as Ed first lay eyes on him. His long hair was black as ink, dirty and greasy as it was sticking out in every direction, melting into the shadows around him. The bit of skin he caught glimpse of at the man’s hands in his lap, was paper thin and sickly white. 

»Sir?« He tried again and this time the man actually lifted his head though only slightly. Still, the moment Ed’s brown eyes met ice blue eyes in the dim flickering light of the neon lamp, his heart almost stopped at the sight before him. »Oswald?« He breathed out before Oswald slowly forced his brittle lips open.

»Help me.«

As he stared at the man in his bed, Edward could hardly fathom what he was seeing. It was Oswald Cobblepot, there was no question about it. Back from the dead although that was debatable judging by how bad he looked. His skin had a greyish tint to it, he was thinner than he remembered him, almost the hollow shell of a man by this point. His high cheekbones were protruding prominently out of his face, dark circles under his eyes only adding to the look of a man on his deathbed. His hair was longer than he remembered it, easily reaching down to his chin in thick greasy strands. He clearly had been out there and fighting for his survival for a while. Right now, however, it seemed almost as if Oswald was about to lose this battle and rapidly so. 

He had lost consciousness as Edward had helped him to his feet and dragged him back to his apartment. He could have called for an ambulance but since he didn't know if someone was on the hunt for Oswald that might not have been the wisest decision. A fine coat of sweat was clinging to his clammy skin and his breathing was shallow.

Only as Edward had dumped him carefully on his bed, had he realized that something was odd about his right leg and after undressing him to get him out of the damp, dirty clothes that could only be burned at this point, he had realized what it was too.

His right leg was missing from just above where his knee should be. Amputated and carelessly replaced by some crude prosthesis that did not fit him right and was undoubtedly causing him pain. The scar that had been left where his knee once sat, was huge, ugly, jagged, infected and swollen. It was still fresh, hardly older than a month at best. No wonder Oswald was looking as if he was battling death because he probably was. The infection might have already wandered through his entire body, would cause his liver and his kidneys to fail and lead to his demise if not treated. He needed antibiotics and strong ones. 

Ed only ruffled his hair at the sight in front of him. He was glad to see that Oswald was still alive but a part of him wondered if it wouldn't be more merciful to let him die instead of nursing him back to health. Bringing him to the nearest hospital would still have been the best solution for this but did not seem to be an option, otherwise, Oswald would have gone there himself. He was probably thinking that someone was out looking for him. Or his former boss, Fish Mooney, thought that he was dead and Oswald would like it to remain this way. Well, if he would not do anything, he would be dead for certain in only a few hours by this point. 

Later, after he had made his decision, he tried not to linger, as soon as he had administered a shot of high concentrated antibiotics into Oswald’s veins. He tried not to pause for too long on the edge of the bed, he tried not to brush his fingers through the tangled mess of Oswald’s hair. Despite his bad condition, despite how sick he looked, he was still gorgeous to Ed. His skin was littered in bruises and cuts. He was dirty and stank but underneath all that grime was still that porcelain white skin, underneath his closed lids there were still those piercing blue eyes. 

Oswald was like a puzzle to him. Everything about him was like a riddle that he could just not solve. His entire being a contradiction of itself, almost. Maybe it was that what drew him to Oswald despite the darkness the young mobster promised. Still, only administering antibiotics would do nothing would he not get the other man cleaned up and warm. 

He went through the motions without thinking too much about it. As long as he would treat this like another one of his cases and Oswald like a body on the table of the morgue, he would not be bothered by his nudity or the state he was in. He filled a bowl with warm water, took a washcloth, soap and a towel and began washing Oswald as if it was the most normal thing he could do. He didn't think about how he, only months ago, envisioned himself tracing his fingers down Oswald’s flat stomach tenderly. Now his stomach was not just flat but he looked as if he was starving. His ribs were protruding all too clearly through his skin.

The memory of seeing Oswald skate on that frozen duck pond had never left him ever since the day and was, up until this very moment, the distinctive instant that he had truly fallen in love with that sharp-tongued man. He had spent months and weeks thinking about Oswald, wondering about how soft his skin might feel underneath the tips of his fingers, how he would taste when he would drag his tongue down his body. He had imagined having Oswald in his bed over and over again, having him at his mercy and begging for the sweet relief that only Edward could give him. 

This was not like he had thought it would play out. 

Everything about this situation felt wrong and devastating to Ed. He shouldn't be here washing Oswald’s body to free him from the grime and dirt. He shouldn't be here tending to his wounds and cleaning the ugly scar on his leg. He was still careful about it and even more so as he bandaged his stump up again. 

The water was dirty and murky as he finished his work and rose to his feet. He was almost thankful for the lack of reaction coming from Oswald as he went to get rid of his equipment for it would have made things certainly just awkward between them. Well, even more so than they surely would become as soon as the young mobster would wake up and find his stalker hovering about. He wondered if Oswald even remembered him still. He wondered if Oswald already knew about his mother’s demise. The thought pained him for some reason. He didn't know much about Oswald for lack of conversation but he had spent far enough time observing the young mobster to have seen the way Oswald had treated his mother before his disappearance. 

More than once had he witnessed how Oswald would purchase a lovely bouquet of perfect lilies to provide them to his mother or how he would buy her expensive chocolate. Maybe other people would have made fun of Oswald for being such a mama’s boy, but to Edward, this was just sweet. Sometimes he even found himself envying Oswald for having such a close bond with his mother while that was something that Edward never had with his own parents.

His father had been a drunk piece of shit most of the time and he had most certainly not wasted a single tear on him as he had finally succumbed to his habit. As for his mother … Well, she had loved his father more than him. She had been of the clear opinion that his father Edwin had hung the moon and the stars in the sky and blamed her son for every violent outburst of this tyrant instead of her husband. He hadn't spoken to her after his father's death, not even visited her grave after she had hung herself.

Oswald, on the other hand, would be crushed to hear of his mother's death if he didn't already know about it. As he later returned to Oswald’s side, just after he had set up his medical equipment neatly and cleaned again and ready for use, to place a wet cloth on his forehead, he found himself staring at the sleeping man once more. What had happened to Oswald to cause this horrifying condition he was in?

He remembered that Oswald had vanished shortly after the Wayne Case had been closed by their new boy scout James Gordon but he failed to see the connection - unless, of course, Oswald had seen the killer and had given Jim the information he had needed that had ultimately led to Mario Pepper’s death and to Oswald being punished for being a snitch. Usually, though, snitches died. And maybe Oswald had died and had then been reborn. Though his wings had been broken along the way. He would never dance again on a frozen lake or with a broom in his hands. The brutal reality of his missing leg still had not yet fully sunken into his stomach.

However, even knowing that his thick blanket was now covering up that horrific injury, did not make him feel any different towards the young man in his bed. Maybe now was his time to show Oswald who truly was the right man for him. Jim was no longer here, Jim was not interested in him. Jim was not here to help him. Jim wouldn't accept him the way he was now. Jim, that good looking man with the pretty fiance, would never look twice at a broken thing like Oswald. He hated that this was the truth but it was true nonetheless. He, on the other hand, was just as broken and he could see the beauty in it. 

Hopefully, Oswald would understand that too. 

It was much later as Edward was at first alarmed by the stirring on his bed. The sun had just started to rise over Gotham and tinted the usually steel grey sky into a murky looking magenta until the sky would lose all motivation again and revert back into his usual grey color. It was easy to lose all hope in a city such as Gotham when even the sky had no real strength to be anything but grey and hopeless. 

First, Edward was not too worried as he heard the rustling coming from the bed but as it happened again, followed by a groan, he turned around from his task of making coffee. Oswald was undoubtedly about to wake up, so Edward quickly left his kitchenette and walked back to the bed. He could only imagine that Oswald would freak out on him, yet he could not keep himself from leaning over him as he witnessed how the other man slowly opened his eyes.

»Good Morning, Sleepyhead.« 

The freakout was imminent. Oswald’s eyes grew huge within seconds as he scrambled to sit up, taking in far too much of his surroundings all at once and the fact that he was naked under the blanket certainly did not help. His breathing became ragged as he pushed himself to form a question. »Where am I?« He breathed out stuttering, panicked even. His pupils were big as saucers.

»Erratic movement and elevated heart rate are counterproductive to the healing process!« Edward quickly responded as Oswald’s eyes frantically moved about the room as if to assess the true danger of the situation he was in right now. Ed, however, was quick to walk over to the array of bowls in which he had set up his medical equipment earlier, grabbing one of the syringes he knew contained a mild sedative that would knock Oswald out cold pretty much instantly thanks to his weakened state. However, as Oswald saw the syringe in his hand, his panic only grew and he started flailing so much that Edward found himself forced to grab his head to hold him still.

»No!« Oswald cried out right away, his voice uncharacteristically high in terror. »No!« Under different circumstances, Ed would maybe step back to reassess as to why he was in this much fear of a simple needle - despite the obvious fact. He probably didn't remember meeting Ed before in the alley or meeting him at the park this one time. 

»Apologies in advance.« Ed was quick to administer the needle to Oswald’s neck and squirt the liquid inside the syringe into his veins without wasting precious seconds. Oswald grew limp the moment he pulled the needle back out of his neck and Ed knew that he had succeeded. A part of him felt bad for Oswald, for scaring him so much without a proper explanation, but the rest of his mind knew that it was all in his best interest and that had to be of greater importance now. 

»Rest up my friend, we will have much more time to talk.« 

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**


	3. Chapter 3

It was a struggle but Ed Nygma would have expected nothing less as Oswald Cobblepot finally woke up for good this second time around. He might not know him as a person well, except for all the details he had collected on his own throughout the past few months but he had been aware from the start that Oswald truly was no docile and submissive person. Not to mention that he was not surprised to find Oswald afraid and panicking. It certainly would have been the reaction he would have opted for also in a situation like this.

Maybe Oswald’s apparent panic was the very human way of reacting to waking up in a stranger’s bed after being drugged violently by said stranger beforehand. Though Edward wondered just how much Oswald remembered of that. He wondered if Oswald remembered meeting him in the alley when he had pleaded for help or how he had woken up earlier before Ed had jammed the syringe into his neck. He wondered even if Oswald still remembered him from all this time ago at the park. Luckily, he did not need to wait long to get the answer to at least one of those questions.

»You drugged me!« The accusation came swiftly as Oswald quickly backed away from Ed as soon as the young forensic scientist approached him with a glass of water on a tray that he had fetched when he had realized that his patient would soon wake up.

»It was for your own benefit.« Ed tried to reassure him with a pleasant smile but was not nearly naive enough to believe that this would calm the other man in any way. »You have extensive injuries, suffer from fever and an infection coming from this crudely amputated leg of yours.«

There was no way of telling if his words even registered with Oswald judging by how the other man stared back at him out of those clear blue eyes that all too often looked almost green. In fact, Edward had not entirely been certain if they were green or blue at first. Sometimes they even appeared to be grey, depending on the light source. His eyes were specified as being blue on his ID, though. Luckily for Ed, he was working for the police force of Gotham and Oswald … Well, he was no innocent citizen and had already been in the focus of the MCU and the GCPD long before he had vanished all of the sudden.

Naturally, all it had taken for Ed to find out this detail about Oswald - in addition to his exact height, five feet and six inches, his weight, one hundred and thirty-six pounds, and his birthday, the fourth of June - had been a quick search in the databank. Some might call his behavior invasive, maybe even downright that of a stalker or someone obsessed with another person in general. Edward, however, liked to call it research. Excessive research, perhaps, but still research. He was a scientist, after all.

»I know you.« The words escaped Oswald with confusion written all over his face and his striking blue eyes never leaving Ed’s own brown ones. He couldn't deny that his heart was jumping in his chest at this claim of Oswald’s. So the young mobster did, in fact, remember him! What more could he have hoped for?

»Ed.« As there was no further reaction from Oswald he added »Nygma« with a smile. »We met before at the park last December and once at Fish Mooney's nightclub.« _You talked to me_ , Edward wanted to add. _You asked me how I was doing. You smiled at me._

Oswald stared at him out of pale unfocused blue eyes, before his eyes started to trail down his own body as if he was only now realizing that he was naked in Ed’s bed. _Oh, dear._ »Where are my clothes?« He murmured quietly. »Why am I naked?« The insinuation was pretty clear but Ed remained calm as he continued to hold out the drink to Oswald.

»I threw them away.« He stated and was met with an angry glare straight away. »They were dirty, stank and were unsavable for certain. I don't even wish to think what vermin was infesting that fabric. And since you were sweating so badly from the fever, I thought it would be better not to dress you again and have you sweat through one of my spare pajamas only to further the infection or have you freeze in those sweaty clothes.«

Oswald did not seem sold on his explanation. That too seemed all too human to Ed at the current situation. Then he realized that not the missing clothes were the true problem, though certainly a part of it. »I did not throw away your prosthesis.« He added quieter and lowered his eyes in recognition of the anger and the shame that the other man might feel at his statement. Although he himself was still in possession of all his limbs and could not possibly know how Oswald felt about this, he had enough common sense to realize that he was probably struggling with his missing leg. Not only physically, of course, but first and foremost mentally. It must have been a shock. It must have been traumatic and Edward rather not think of the circumstances under which he had lost his leg. All he could do was mourn the fact that he would possibly never see him dance again.

»Although, I really wished I had thrown it away. Never in my life have I seen a poorer fabricated and ill-fitting prosthesis - and I do work in forensics. I have seen quite a few dead people with ill-fitting leg prosthesis’ in this city.« This was a city ruled by the mob, after all. It was not this uncommon for a mobster to lose a limb as form of punishment. »It's really no wonder that your wound got infected so badly. Had I not found you … You would have succumbed to the infection.«

As he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed and nudged the small round tray with the glass of water on it closer to Oswald. Again, Ed did his best to school his face into a pleasant and friendly expression. »It's just water.« He offered and was not at all surprised as Oswald gently swatted the tray away like an annoying little fly. »Prolonged stays outside can lead to dehydration and you could use every bit of liquids you can get your hands on right now.«

»Listen, Friend.«

»Ed. just call me Ed.«

»Whatever.« He scoffed. »I appreciate what you did for me but I would appreciate it even more would you give me back my leg and clothes so that I can go back on my merry way and leave this town for good. There is nothing that holds me here anymore.« He knew about his mother. That was the first thing that came to his mind at this statement. Surely, Oswald would have wanted to stay for his mother. Did he know about Jim Gordon’s engagement too? It had been in the newspaper, after all. And did Jim know that Oswald was still alive? Did Jim know about his condition? Had he dumped him because of it?

Only as Oswald actually threw back his blanket with no care in the world for his own nudity did Edward snap out of his ridiculous thoughts again. He tried to get up from the bed but Edward was quicker. »Oh, dear!« He sputtered as he put the tray and the water to the side on his bedside table so that he could push Oswald back by his shoulders gently and keep him from getting up. »You can't get up, Oswald! You have to rest!«

It was a struggle but Oswald, in his weakened state, was no match to him as he pushed him back into the pillows. »Please! You almost died! You are not well enough to leave!«

Oswald did not react well to being pushed into the pillows or being told what to do. If anything it made him even more livid at this point and brought back a bit of fire into those cold eyes of his. However, it was Ed’s luck that the young man was in such a poor condition and utterly unable to do anything about being overpowered by Ed. He had to realize that Ed had the upper hand at the moment if he still refused to accept to realize that all Ed wanted was to help him.

Oh, but he wished Oswald would just get that Ed’s intentions were pure and came from a place of love and care for the other man. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him in any way and he hated the fear that was lingering in Oswald's eyes, barely concealed by his fury.

Only then, as the mobster gave up his struggle, did Edward raise his hands and lean back to clarify that he did mean no harm to him. After a small pause, Ed reached for the tray and the glass of water again. »Please, Oswald, you have to drink.«

His angry gaze never left Edward but, finally, he extended one trembling hand to the glass and only as he almost dropped it, was Ed allowed to help him again and steadied his grip on the glass. With Ed’s help, Oswald finally managed to take a few gulps of water through the straw.

»What happened?« Ed finally managed to ask before he put the tray to the side again as Oswald’s own grab on the glass became a bit more steady and tucked the thick blanket higher to cover Oswald up entirely. »You vanished all of the sudden a few months ago. I went to the club, but you never returned to it. What happened to you?« He quickly realized that this seemed to have been the wrong question judging by the sour expression on Oswald’s face. »I thought you were dead.«

»You were at the pond.« Oswald finally stated. »Now I remember you.« There was still a sheen of sweat to his forehead and his pale blue eyes were glassy. He looked sick and weak and not at all like the stunning young man he had seen at the park all these months ago with which he had fallen in love oh so very quickly and rapidly to the point where he still hoped that he might get a chance now that Jim was out of the picture.

Ed felt a small smile creeping up on him at Oswald's words. The sole fact that the other man indeed remembered him was enough to make his heart pound in his chest again. They had only talked to each other for a few short minutes and yet he had made enough of an impact that Oswald, to this day, remembered him. »I-«

»You are that creepy stalker that asked me for a date!«

He could feel his face fall before he could even do anything about it to regain his usual friendly mask. Oswald's words were cuttingly sharp like a scalpel. A part of his mind immediately went to the defense of Oswald, the man he loved, urging Ed’s darker self to not react too badly because Oswald probably didn't mean it the way it sounded. Yet, Edward couldn't deny that his words had struck a chord deep within him as they were too reminiscent of the way all those other cops at the precinct usually talked to him or treated him. He remembered his failed attempt of asking Kristen Kringle out that one time and how she had laughed behind his back with her ex-boyfriend and his friends about that ‘weirdo’ Ed Nygma and his sorry attempts of flirting.

Suddenly, hearing those words from the object of his true affections, was even worse than everything he had ever heard before. Suddenly, he was a kid again in the middle of the schoolyard and his classmates were laughing at him again and pointing fingers. Suddenly, he didn't feel like this was his home even, as if he hadn't even the right to be here. He was a no one again, nothing again, just weird little Ed Nygma again and no one would ever see him the way he wanted to be seen, no one would ever reciprocate his feelings - not even a man like Oswald Cobblepot.

Especially not a man like Oswald Cobblepot.

»I'm not … I didn't stalk you.« He tried to remain calm as he shoved up his glasses and averted his gaze quickly. Oswald's eyes, no matter how much he loved them, were suddenly impossible to meet without freezing on the spot. However, as he looked at him again, he realized that the man in his bed was not even the Oswald he had met all these months ago. He was a completely different man.

»What is this?« He was certainly agitated. Then again, Edward had never been especially great in reading social cues. However, even he realized that the fact that he had undressed Oswald suddenly had a whole different weight to it. Oswald's eyes suddenly widened in horror as he stared at Edward and his fingers that were holding the glass of water were trembling even worse than before.

»No!« Ed immediately tried to defend himself. »I didn't do anything to you, I swear!«

»You drugged me! What else did you do to me you freak? Does ‘no’ mean nothing to you? You are sick!« Before he knew what was happening Oswald had not only splashed the rest of his water at him but even threw the glass straight at Ed’s face. He was quick enough to dodge it and barely registered how the glass shattered on the ground besides the bed. The next second he had his hands wrapped around Oswald's beautiful pale throat.

When he came back to his senses and realized with a gasp that he was choking Oswald, he flinched away as if burned by his soft skin and almost fell to the ground as his legs failed to support him in getting as far away from the bed as possible right in that instant. Oswald was wheezing and coughing as he was trying to catch his breath again and come back to his senses while Ed just stood there for the longest while. It felt like an eternity that he was unable to do anything at all before he all but fled into the bathroom and slammed the door close behind him.

»What have I done…« He heard himself muttering as he crossed through the bathroom to grip the sides of his sink so hard his knuckles turned white as if that could actually help him get a grip again. »Oh dear … What have I done? I could have killed him.«

» _He insulted you._ « His reflection was all too eager to reply and Ed quickly pressed two fingers of both hands so hard into his closed eyes that he could see stars almost. He couldn't allow his reflection to taunt him again. Not now. Not after what he had just done to Oswald. He had choked him. And for what? Because Oswald voiced his fear? This was madness.

»That's … That's no reason … That does not excuse what I did.« Ed muttered to himself, keeping his eyes close so that he could avoid looking at his own reflection in the mirror who was undoubtedly grinning that smug grin of his that Ed hated so much. He needed to refill his prescription. He knew that he was in dire need of his medication for a few days by now but somehow he had never gotten around to actually refill his prescription. He couldn't even explain why. He just hadn't bothered but … this … He needed his pills. »He was afraid. He _is_ afraid. He went through something horrible, something traumatic even. He lost a leg. He is afraid. He is terrified of me. I would be terrified would I wake up naked in a stranger’s bed. It's only natural for him to lash out at me. What I did is inexcusable.«

His reflection moaned in discontent. » _Are you serious?_ « He groaned. » _That guy is a mobster, Ed! Don't act as if he's some kind of delicate little flower you have to protect! He wanted to hurt you and he did and your reaction was natural. It's time to have a bit of fun, don't you think?_ «

For the first time, he opened his eyes to look at himself in the mirror again and mirror-Ed grinned back at him, his eyes glistening with mischief. He could feel the temptation to do as he said and just have a bit of fun, to take what he wanted and not regret a thing, but then he shook his head. »No.« He muttered as the decision formed clearly in his head. The spell was broken as he opened the mirror cupboard above the sink to take out his empty pill bottle. It was time to get a grip again.

Quickly, Ed shoved the pill bottle in the right front pocket of his pants and left the bathroom again only after he had splashed a bit of cold water in his face. He could feel the tension in the air as he stepped back into the main room of his apartment. Suddenly, the green tint from the neon sign right outside his window that filled his apartment, that had usually a soothing effect on him made him feel agitated and nauseous now. He felt confronted by Oswald's clear blue eyes staring at him from the bed.

»I … I need to get a few things.« Edward hurriedly explained as he quickly made his way towards his apartment door. Even being in the same room as Oswald was suddenly suffocating. Hell, usually he would check on Oswald and make sure that he was alright but he could not even bring himself to look at the young man on his bed. Guilt was gnawing at his insides and he did not wait for Oswald's reply before he grabbed his jacket from the coat rag, his keys and fled his apartment.

And yes, that was exactly what it was. He fled his own apartment in fear of hurting Oswald again - and to escape the need of facing up to what he did. He felt like the biggest coward in existence all the way to the pharmacy inside the supermarket and back, even while he was picking up groceries to ease his mind. He should at least have been brave enough to check on Oswald. That would have been the right thing to do. At this point, he was not better than Jim fucking Gordon. Whatever this man did to Oswald, Edward felt as if he had done something equally bad just today, if not even worse.

He had told himself over and over in the past few months that, would he be given the chance, he would treat Oswald well and with the respect he deserved. He had spent his time demonizing Jim Gordon for Oswald’s disappearance and possible death and yet here he was and he finally got the chance to prove himself worthy to Oswald and yet he choked him.

He had fucked up big time and there was no way he could ever make up for what he did.

As he reached his apartment, he still was none the wiser about what he wanted to do to ask for Oswald's forgiveness and make sure that the young man would understand that Ed meant him no harm. The moment he opened his door, however, he grew aware that something wasn't as it should be.

His eyes immediately fell on the bed right next to the large sliding door to find it ruffled and empty. »Oswald?« Almost he dropped the bag of groceries in his arms as he hurried further into the apartment after closing his door again. He couldn't have his neighbors find out about the man in his apartment. His first thought was that Oswald had somehow escaped his apartment but the moment he walked past the bed, he found Oswald lying face down on the ground between the bed and the chair where Ed had put his poorly crafted leg.

»Oh dear…« He muttered as he quickly approached the unmoving figure on the ground. He was quick to put the groceries away on the table before he knelt down on the ground beside Oswald to feel for his pulse. He could feel his pulse under his fingertips. It was weak and seemed almost to stumble over itself at times. But it was still there. A low _badum-badum_ underneath his fingertips. To kill him now would not even take more out of him than snapping the neck of a tiny bird. At first, the thought and how it suddenly jumped into his head, scared him beyond belief but then he felt his fingers gently brushing through Oswald’s raven black hair and down the porcelain skin of his swan-like neck.

His skin was soft beneath his fingers and he fought the urge to trace them all over Oswald’s thin body. He was much more frail than when he had first seen him and only looked more like a fragile little bird than ever before. There was this innate instinct to protect this man and on the same instant, there was the desire to break him piece by piece. The deep dark voice whispering to Ed at all times, urging him to put his hands around Oswald’s throat again and finish the job. Wouldn't it be merciful to kill him? No one would ever know. The mob had probably ordered his death before. He had no one left, no family or friends who would come looking for him. He could keep him here forever. He could take and take and take without anyone knowing what was happening behind closed doors. He could take revenge for the rejection he had suffered at Oswald's hands.

It stung to this day.

And wouldn't he deserve it for what he had said to Ed earlier?

※※※※※※※

When the sun set over Gotham and cast the world into darkness, Ed found himself humming in content while the tea kettle was gently rattling on the stove. Finally, his mind was at ease for once on this day. There was a small _clunk_ coming from the bed that promoted Edward to turn his attention back to his guest on the bed as the handcuffs on Oswald’s left wrist moved against the metal of the bed frame. He would certainly be unhappy when he would fully wake up. Ed, however, couldn't care less as he sat down on the chair at his table and began dismantling Oswald’s prosthesis.

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ed tries to not be creepy

In his dreams, he was still at the frozen duck pond during the Christmas season. In his dreams he still watched Oswald dance on the frozen pond. A part of his mind would probably forever stay in this moment, he realized as we woke up with his head on the table surrounded by evidence of a murder scene. Some poor guy had been strapped to a chair and pushed down a building only to be pulled back up by the killer. The realization that he was unable to let go of that day at the park did not hit him like a truck, though. It was more like a slow creeping sensation as his waking mind was still unwilling to let go of his dream.

However, the dream shattered as he opened his apartment door later that same day only to be met with a furious houseguest. »You cannot do something like this to another human being!« Oswald sounded a lot more awake now than he had as Edward had gone home during his lunch break to look after him. He was still battling with fever and the infection from his wounds, not to mention the malnutrition he had suffered lately. However, Edward had helped him to get dressed in one of his spare Pajamas in the morning. It had felt odd to know that not only would he be at work with a man tied to his bed but that said man would have been naked would he not dress him. When he came home earlier, Oswald had still been groggy and Edward would have much rather stayed at home to keep an eye on him but he could not excuse another day off believably to his coworkers. He never missed a day of work freely, after all, and he didn't want to draw any suspicion. Not that anyone would care.

As he slid the door shut behind him, he avoided looking at Oswald for just a moment. He could still hardly even look at the man on his bed and the red marks all around his necks in the shape of Ed’s own long fingers. » I’m sorry, but I just couldn't risk you trying to escape again in your condition.«

»Escape how? You dismembered my leg!«

His protest might be justified but Ed was still unwilling to agree with it. Yes, he had dismembered his prosthesis. Yes, he had handcuffed Oswald to his bed to keep him from getting up and try something stupid. Still, his intentions came from a place of love and concern for this man and he was adamant to show this to Oswald, to prove this to Oswald.

»I have dismembered your leg because I want to make something better out of it.« Something that would actually fit the young man and would allow him to walk without pain. He could not bear the thought of Oswald being in any sort of pain.  

»And what qualifies you to do that? Who gave you the right to do that?« He was furious and Ed was glad that this was the case because it meant that there was still fight left in this man and his weakened body. There was still enough strength in him left to fight against him and be angry with him. That was a good sign, at least in Ed’s eyes. It meant that he would get back on his feet in due time. It meant that he was a fighter despite the obvious grief and depression that he was battling. He was lashing out at Ed at any given moment, insulting and shouting at him and refusing to accept anything Ed offered him. He fought with everything he had and that was good. It was important.

Still, finally he gave a moment of pause as he hung his jacket to the coat rag. He had still troubles facing Oswald head on. It was not only the fact that he felt still guilty for choking him, but also the feelings he had for this man and that seemed so far out of reach. Oswald had a point, though. Who gave him the right to decide that he would build him a new and better prosthesis? What qualified him except for his talent in building weird things.

»I…« He began quietly and then stopped himself. What did he want to say to this even? Oswald was angry and rightfully so. He was hurt, he was traumatized, had gone through quite a lot of shit in the past few month, as far as he could tell judging by the bad state his entire body was in. »I want to help you.« He then stated and turned to look at Oswald’s eyes for once after he had choked him. The look he met was one full of fury once again and he couldn't blame him.

»Why?« Oswald then bit out. »Why would you even want to help me?« He sounded bitter and hurt and his face was a grimace of pain at these words. He could almost feel the deep-seated hurt and betrayal that he had suffered vibrating in his voice.  

»Why wouldn't I want to help you?« Ed replied and tried to manage a small smile. Surely, his intentions earlier had to have been clear to Oswald, right? Surely the other man had been able to interpret his curiosity for what it was, right? He had asked him for a date, after all. Still, as Oswald’s face did not change expression, Ed found himself sighing deeply and bridged the gap between him and the bed to carefully sit down on the edge by the foot of the bed. »Oswald … Listen, I know that my behavior might have seemed strange to you, but I am certain that my … my feelings couldn't have been misinterpreted by you. When I met you at the pond, a few months ago … I admit that I came to Mooney’s almost every night to see you. I wasn't happy to hear that you have a boyfriend.«

»So now you think that you can nurse me back to health and I fall in love with you?« He mocked as he leaned his head back just a bit. Though he was smaller than Ed and in a much more vulnerable position right now, the way he looked down his nose made it perfectly clear to Edward that Oswald stood above him in every way possible.

»No … Of course, not.« Yes, of course. Of course, that was what he wanted but Ed also knew that he wouldn't be able to force Oswald’s heart. »That is not what I wanted to achieve. When you disappeared, I was certain that you were killed by the mob and … I grieved. Shortly after your disappearance, your mother died and I sometimes visited her grave. And when I found you in this alley, all I wanted to do was help you. That is all.«

He had said too much. He knew that he had said too much and now he couldn't take any of it back. His reflection wasn't here to taunt him but he could almost hear his voice. Fuck. Once more he had made a fool of himself.

»You visited my mother's grave?« Oswald’s voice sounded thin as he found it again. Ed could not yet name the feeling that Oswald’s voice evoked inside of him at this point. Hope, maybe?

»I did.« He admitted quietly once more. »I couldn't stand the thought that no one visited her grave.«

Oswald was silent again for a moment and Ed took this as his clue that the conversation was over, so he reached up to the handcuffs on Oswald’s left wrist to unlock them and set him free again. Maybe his behavior was a bit possessive, to say the least but it was all in Oswald’s best interest even if Oswald might not be able to see that yet.

»Thank you.« Oswald finally muttered as he massaged his left wrist gently. »But I don't want your help.« The next thing Ed knew was that he was lying on the ground next to the bed and his head was hammering like mad. A groan escaped his lips the moment he heard the commotion inside his apartment. Grabbing his head he heard his apartment door being torn open and struggled to get back to his feet.

»Oswald, wait!« He hissed before he could even understand what was going on. However, Oswald was already out on the hallway with Ed’s best umbrella as a makeshift crutch to put his weight on as he hurried as fast as he possibly could with just one leg and an umbrella. He was a lot faster than Edward would have even deemed possible but Edward was quicker and grabbed him by the back of the pajama top, causing him to stumble and fall right away.

»Get off of me!« Oswald shouted at the top of his lungs so that Ed had no other choice but to press his hand down on his mouth before his nosy neighbor Mrs. Pinkerton would hear the commotion and  come running.

»Oswald, calm down!« He hissed right in his face as he held the other man down with the weight of his body even though this might be a bit unfair. After all, Edward was not only heavier than Oswald but also at an advantage. »I only want to help you! You cannot leave!«

»Let me go!« The bite came without any warning and actually caused Edward to scream out in pain as Oswald managed to draw blood. »I don't need your help!«

»Yes, you do!« Ed growled. »Your boss thinks you are dead and how long do you think it’ll take her to find out that you aren’t if you start roaming these streets again? Not to mention that you won't get very far without your prosthesis!«

»And whose fault is that?« Oswald shouted back right at his face and almost sent spit flying everywhere. He was more like a cornered animal, a wild beast than an actual human being. The dirty strands of his long black hair fell in his face and casted dark shadows over his beautiful blue eyes without much finesse, his teeth were stained yellow and looked almost a bit crooked from such a close proximity.

»Okay okay, I am sorry for dismembering your prosthesis, I just wanted to make a better one out of it! I see that this was a stupid idea! But don't you want revenge on Fish Mooney and everyone else who wronged you?« It were those words that brought back a spark into Oswald’s striking blue eyes. They were so close now that Edward would be able to kiss him would he lean down even further. »How could you take your revenge like this, though?«

First, Oswald pressed his lips into a thin line until they almost disappeared, then he stopped struggling. »Help me up.« He bit out instead.

It was a truce not forgiveness, no offer of friendship or more. Simply a truce. Oswald would stop fighting against him and maybe even accept his help and that was all it was. That became all the clearer by the way Oswald would look at him from his spot on the bed or over the rim of a book from then on. He hated him, that was clear to Edward, while he was working on the new prosthesis. However, as long as Oswald would stay, and let him help, Ed was content with it, he decided. And maybe, Oswald would warm up to him sooner or later.

It was that same evening, that he heard the hum for the first time. First, he wasn't sure if he had heard it right, after he had settled down on his old but comfortably soft sofa again, like he had during the past few nights since Oswald was occupying his bed. He was exhausted and certain that Oswald was already sleeping under his mountain of blankets but as the low humming continued, he realized that it was indeed coming from underneath the blanket that Oswald had pulled over his head to block out every bit of light and noise inside the apartment.

For the longest time, Edward just listened with a smile on his face. Maybe finally he had found something to warm Oswald’s frozen heart with again, he realized as he listened to the younger man hum silently. As the next morning came, it was this song Edward woke him with as he gently played it on the old piano that he had once found on the bulky waste and refurbished from scratch to the scratchy sounding record that softly played to guide him.

» _Nothing can warm me more, than my, my mother’s love. I light another candle, dry the tears from my face-_ «  

It took Oswald longer than he would have thought to react but when he did, the reaction was swift as he pushed the blanket of him just enough to be able to look over at Edward. »Why are you playing this song?« Even as Edward stopped playing to turn around on the bench of his piano to face Oswald on his bed, the record let the song continue to fill his apartment full of mismatched furniture and items that did not seem to go together. Everything he owned was either refurbished or had been built by him - like the bed Oswald was sleeping in, that Edward had once constructed from a bunch of old iron pipes and wood. Oswald looked like a ruffled bird as he propped himself up just slightly on one elbow to look at him with something that Edward could only describe as pain in his eyes.

»I can bring tears to your eyes and resurrect the dead. I form in an instant and last a lifetime. What am I?«

»A memory.« He spat. »So what?«

»You were humming this under your covers last night. I figured it has meaning to you.« For just a moment, the anger and pain in Oswald’s eyes seemed to subside and allow an expression of awe to take hold of his pale face as he looked at Ed, then there was a small huff, almost a laugh before he slowly dragged his slumped body a bit higher against the headboard.

»Every night when I was young, my mother would sing that song to me when I was going to bed.« He began finally and Edward took the opportunity to bridge the distance between them once more, spatial as emotionally as well as he rose from his seat and walked over to the bed to sit down on the edge by the foot of the bed once more. »And everytime she would tell me: Oswald« As Oswald dropped his eyes to the ground, Ed could see the hesitation and how the other man fought back the tears that threatened to spill. »don't listen to the other children. You're handsome, and clever, and someday you will be a great man. She said that every time. That's all I have left now. Memories. And they are like daggers in my heart.«

»Not forever.« Edward promised with a smile that he could only hope looked genuine and not creepy. He did not think about his own mother a whole lot but whenever he did and whenever he saw something that would remind him of her, he would feel the same way. As if someone would plunge a dagger right through his heart. His mother had been as different from Oswald’s as anyone could be and yet, though she had not cared enough for him to stick around after his father’s death, a part of him had loved her just like Oswald had loved his mother. »I can't bring your mother back to live … But I can help you make her vision come true. And take revenge for her death.«

»She died from a stroke. No one is at fault for that.« Oswald brushed off his words as if they meant nothing just like the people at the precinct always did. No one ever took him seriously. He couldn't deny that it hurt.

»I believe she died of a broken heart.« Ed replied gently just as the record switched back to play the song again. »She died shortly after the MCU visited her because of your disappearance. The MCU thinks that you are dead, they undoubtedly told her that too. They suspect that Detective James Gordon is the culprit for your death.« Oswald flinched at the mention of the name and avoided his gaze once again. »You know that man.« It was not a question and when he reached out to place two fingers at the side of his jaw, Oswald did not swat them away for once. »He was your boyfriend four months ago.«

»You know a little too much for someone who claims not to be a stalker.« There was poison in Oswald’s voice as he spoke.

»Knowing stuff is kinda my thing.« Edward sighed. »Often, I don't even actively try to find stuff out, you know? For most people, I am just some weird guy who works in forensics and has a knack for dead people. They act as if I don't even exist most of the time and thus they don't watch their actions around me. I was often enough at Mooney’s until closure to have seen Jim waiting for you outside on more than one occasion. I just put two and two together. Imagine my surprise as Jim Gordon became my colleague.«

»I don't care.« His voice was sharp like a dagger again. »If this is one of your sorry attempts of gaining my sympathy or trust then I have to inform you that this is rather futile. I don't care for your little sob story or how unfairly you are being treated by your colleagues.«

»He dumped you as he found out that you are part of the mob, right? It was when the Wayne murders happened. Shortly after that, you disappeared.«

»Would you just stop talking?« He growled. »I can't stand it! Don't you have work to do?«

»Did he do this to you?« Ed continued. »Did he … What happened to you? What happened to your leg? What did Gordon do to you?«

»Nothing!« Oswald shouted as he pushed at his shoulders this time, a sorry attempt of pushing Edward off his own bed. »James did nothing to me! And now leave me alone!« This time it was on Ed to pinch his lips into a tight line before he finally got up after a minute or two. It was of no use to continue this. Oswald would not answer him any longer. He was done talking and Ed needed to go to work anyway. This time he left Oswald without the handcuffs. It was his way of telling Oswald that he did in fact trust him not to escape and maybe he would gain, in turn, trust of his own from Oswald.

※※※※※※※

Ed was watching Jim Gordon from across the room how he was talking to Bullock, laughing with him over a few donuts and discussing a case. Ed had just witnessed how a beautiful red-headed woman had left Bullock’s desk to leave the precinct and the way Harvey had stared after her had made it pretty clear to Ed that the old grouch had fallen head over heels in love with her - whoever she was. Ed, however, was determined to find out her name. It was always good to know another man’s weak point.

»Ah, Ed!« Jim called out for him around the donut between his teeth and Edward quickly schooled his face back into a neutral, but friendly expression as he walked up the stairs to the balcony and bridged the distance between himself and the two detectives. »Did you find anything?«

He should be glad, he assumed. Despite the fact that the pathologist had voiced his complains about him towards Captain Essen, thanks to Jim he had not been suspended. In fact, Jim, his good _friend_ , had demanded that Edward would do the post-mortem on their latest vic. »The murderer extracted the adrenaline gland of the victim. Postmortem, thankfully. Our murderer knew what he was doing, that much is clear. He might not be a surgeon perse, but he certainly has deep knowledge and understanding of the human biology and physique to be able to extract the gland that cleanly.«

»Why did he need the adrenaline gland, though?« Harvey, the greying Irish brute, turned to Ed now. He could already sense the crude joke he was biting back. »Money?«

»No, the adrenaline gland is pretty much worthless on the black market.« Ed replied before handing the file he had been carrying around for the past couple of minutes to Jim, although reluctantly. Jim, however, spared him a small smile in return.

»You know, Nygma« Harvey chuckled as he actually took his eyes from his lunch for once to look at Ed. He wore that expression of mirth in his eyes that ed hated to see so much on the faces of his coworkers because it usually meant that they were about to spill another insult at him. Sure enough, he was not going to be disappointed. »I don't even want to know how you know what an adrenalin gland is worth on the black market. You really are a strange man. I can only hope we will never find ourselves forced to investigate against you and your strange hobbies.«

»Thank you, Ed. I knew I could count on you.«

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a mess. Just like Ed Nygma.

Ed Nygma had expected many things as he came back to his apartment but certainly not to find Oswald inside of the bathroom trying to cut his own hair with little to no success. The groan of frustration that left Oswald’s throat told him quite clearly how the other man felt about his current situation and predicament. »What are you doing?« It was quite clear what he was trying to do but apparently he had not yet registered Ed’s presence. It was either that or he had ignored it deliberately.

»What does it look like, Genius?« Oswald growled as he turned just slightly on the rim of the bathtub to look at him through his long black bangs. He was too far away from the mirror to have a proper look at himself while trying to cut his hair, though. This was, of course Ed’s fault, for Oswald had only the umbrella that he decided to take, as some form of a crutch. He should make him a proper one until the prosthesis was finished.

»You are going to poke an eye out like this.« Edward sighed  and walked over to him before he took the scissors from Oswald’s hands with little fight from the former mobster. »Here, let me help you.« Oswald obviously did not like this phrasing the way he glared at him now. It certainly wasn’t the first time that Ed would have realized how little Oswald liked being _helped_ by anyone. He struck him as a man who was usually relying on his own skill. Nevertheless, Ed took the scissors and leaned down. »Don't worry, I am quite good at this. I have a lot of practise. During my college years, I worked part-time at a funeral home.«

He didn't think nor did he believe that this was any form of comfort to Oswald, but at least the other man finally allowed him to go to work and start cutting his hair. It had grown quite a bit during the past four months and it was clear to Edward that he either hadn't had the ability to properly care for his appearance or that he simply had not cared to do so. It was still dirty and Oswald in dire need of a proper bath now that his condition wasn't as bad as before.

Edward worked in silence as he remembered how Oswald had worn his hair back when he had met him at the park. He remembered every detail from that day still and he doubted that it would ever leave his mind. The way he had worn his hair, how the wind had ruffled it, his suit, his reddened cheeks and the way he had moved, how graceful he had been and how much it hurt that Oswald would never dance on the ice like this again. _But he will_ , the very much familiar voice in his head hummed and for once this other Ed did not sound cruel in his comments. For once, he did not mean to taunt. _With your prosthesis, he will_.

That was if he would succeed in his endeavor, of course. Until now, he had not succeeded in doing anything at all.

Oswald’s hair was soft like feathers as he carefully cut it strand by strand until he was satisfied and allowed Oswald a glance in the smaller hand mirror that he kept hidden in the cupboard underneath the sink. »There, that's more like it, huh?« It was obvious that Oswald did not entertain the thought of thanking him and so Edward did not press the matter as he instead reached over to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. »Do you need help?«

He knew the answer before Oswald could even give it to him. Of course, Oswald would rather die than to accept Ed’s help. He could understand him, of course. Oswald was one of those men who would do anything to prove that their disability was not limiting to them in any form and that was why he would not force anything on Oswald as the tub was slowly filled with hot water. If Oswald wanted to do this by himself, to get in and out of the tub without Ed’s helping hands then he would let him. Already he had invaded the other man’s privacy far too much as he had undressed him after he had taken Oswald home for the first time. The reality of that still hung in the air between them.

He put a fresh towel on the rim of the bathtub and a moment later after he left the bathroom, he returned with a set of fresh soft cotton pajamas. His favorite pair, even. »Please call if you need anything.« He wanted to add that there would be no shame in asking for help but he knew that Oswald would not call for him even if he truly needed him. He felt uneasy to leave Oswald behind inside the bathroom but at least they had agreed that the door would not be fully shut so that Ed would hear it if Oswald needed help.

As he walked into his kitchenette, his eyes fell upon the parts of the new prosthesis on his table again. He would have time to work on the prosthesis later but now he turned his attention to cooking dinner. There was no sound coming from the bathroom for a while except for the soft splashing of the water in the bathtub. There was something inherently soothing about that noise coming from the bathroom, about knowing that he wasn’t alone except for the nagging voices in the back of his mind. So, Ed began cutting away at the onions and the other vegetables he needed.

Oswald was in dire need of something healthy and hearty to eat now that he was beginning to feel better and slowly but surely started to win his fight against the fever and the infections. Then again, they had still a pretty long way ahead of them, Edward assumed. Yes, Oswald was taking a bath and he looked a bit more like his old self again but the trauma he had suffered was severe and he knew better than anyone that a bath and a haircut would not change anything about that fact.

However, he still clung to the hope - maybe ridiculously so, that he would be able to help Oswald to get back on his feet and to, one day, see him thrive again. The vision alone of Oswald taking revenge on everyone who had wronged him in the past year was beyond exciting and he found himself humming the same tune he had played for Oswald this morning once more while he was preparing dinner.

Then again, he didn't doubt that Oswald would leave him behind the moment he would be back on his feet again. He would walk out of that door and never even look at Edward. He would forget about him like everyone around him had the tendency to do. Sometimes to Ed, it seemed to be an honest miracle that the people he was working with even knew he existed but that they did was only thanks to his riddles and bad puns that he threw around in a sorry attempt of socialize. He had never been exactly good at reading social cues and talk to people like any normal human being would. He tended to make a fool of himself half the time. The other half of the time, people didn't even realize that he was there.

To most people in his life, he was a nobody, not even worth their attention or a friendly greeting at the very least. He was just that weird forensics guy with the knack for riddles they could make fun of. Would he become that to Oswald too as soon as the other man would leave him again?

If he was lucky enough, maybe Oswald would keep him by his side when he would rise to the top because that he would do without a doubt. Edward could already see it before him clear as day. Oswald Cobblepot was meant for greatness and that disability would not keep him from reaching his full potential. He was a fighter. Other people would have already succumbed to those injuries. In a way he and Oswald seemed to be similar, at least on first glance. He assumed that people used to underestimate Oswald as they were underestimating Edward too. The only difference between them was, that unlike Edward, Oswald was not invisible to the outside world. There was something about the man with the snow-white skin and the raven-black hair that stood out from the crowd. It was not his beaklike nose or his ice-blue eyes. It was something about his personality that shone from within and made it impossible not to notice him in a room full of people. He was the shark in a pool full of goldfish.

»You are humming this song again.« Oswald’s voice almost startled him to the point where he would have dropped the knife he was holding to cut up a loaf of bread by this point. His hands had worked without him even noticing it while Oswald had been in the bath and he lost in his own mind. It was not new for him to get so caught up in his own thoughts that he would lose time.

»I am, yes.« Edward turned to look over his shoulder with a curt little smile before he went back to his work. The short glance that he had spared Oswald had sufficed to notice how much the pajama hung from his lean frame. Of course, Oswald was quite a bit shorter than Edward and the past few months had not been kind to him. Still, seeing how big his clothes looked on Oswald tucked at something deep inside of him. The way the right leg of the pajama bottoms hung down empty only added to that sensation. »I like the song.«

»You like it, huh?« There was something in his voice that reminded Edward of a lurking cat that was preying on a mouse. A hidden accusation, perhaps. »Are you sure that you don't just say that because I told you about my mother and this song? There is only one thing that I dislike even more then being pitied and that are sycophants.«

»I can assure you that I am not that.« Ed replied with a smirk. »And I do not pity you either.«

Oswald huffed and he could hear how he was slowly moving closer towards the kitchenette. »Oh, please.«

»No, it's the truth.« Ed replied as he turned away from the countertop where the bread was lying. »I don't pity you, Oswald. I don't feel sorry for you. I grief for you and your losses. That is different.«

He even had the audacity to scoff as he used the umbrella to limp over towards the kitchenette and slump down on a chair at the table. He seemed to have practice in using crutches - or an umbrella as a crutch for that matter. »And what gives you the right to grief for me and my losses?«

»I am a ship that can be made to ride the greatest waves. I am not built by objects but by minds. What am I?«

»The answer is friendship and that was the worst riddle I've ever heard.« Oswald replied with a small roll of his eyes. »So you are saying that you are my friend, do I understand this correctly?«

»That is indeed right.« Again he snorted but Ed continued. »I am your friend, Oswald. You might be unable to see that right now but, I can assure you that I mean this.«

Ed couldn't tell what Oswald thought about his words or if he even believed him and his declaration of friendship. However, at least he did not try to kill him when they sat down together at his table to eat later.

»That was the best Lecsó I’ve seen an American cook.« Oswald later said as he leaned back in his chair.

»Thank you.« Ed smirked. »I know that your mother was originally from Hungary, so I thought something like this would maybe lift your spirits a bit.« As Oswald lowered his gaze on the table, he was certain that he had once again said the wrong thing but as Oswald looked up at him just a second or two later, he actually had a small smile on his face.

»I think my mother would have liked you.« He stated quietly and before Edward could ask why he thought so now all of the sudden despite his very obvious resentment that he had harbored towards Ed at first, Oswald already continued. »She used to cook Lecsó for me whenever I was sick or not feeling good about myself. It used to be my favorite food.«

He felt the smile spreading on his own face before he realized that he was actually smiling or before he realized that Oswald was mirroring his smile. Finally, he thought, they had reached an understanding. He felt as if they had come quite far just now and only because Edward, by some miracle, had managed to cook something that reminded Oswald of his mother in such a nice way.

This time, as they were retreating to bed a little while later, he felt like he had actually succeeded in getting on Oswald’s good side. It was already around midnight as Edward crawled under the blanket on his sofa. By now he got used to sleeping on the old battered down piece of trash and this time, as he switched off the lamp next to it, it felt less uncomfortable to sleep in the same room as Oswald. His progress on the prosthesis had been scarce for the rest of the night after he had opened a bottle of wine for them to drink - much to Oswald’s delight.

He felt the pleasant buzz of the alcohol vibrating through his bones as his head sunk into his pillow and while he listened to the sounds of Oswald turning over on his bed. Yet, as he lay there in total darkness and tried to relax, sleep wouldn't come. He thought that he would fall asleep right away thanks to the wine and the good food. Of course, this was not the case because his body was never as helpful as to actually allow him a little bit of rest. He could use his time so much better in just overthinking everything that had happened today between him and Oswald.

Apparently, though, he was not the only one who could not find sleep.

»Fish learned that I was the snitch who told the GCPD about her involvement in the Wayne murders.« As Oswald chimed up from the bed he was surprised to say the least but didn't know what to say or do right in this moment. Maybe he should stay silent. »She tortured me, broke my leg and forced Jim to put a bullet in my head and dump me in the harbor. You know, the usual initiation rite at the GCPD … Needless to say, Jim only pretended to kill me.«

Had he something to be thanking Jim for for once? Had Saint James finally done something good at last?

»I barely survived being dumped in the river, though.« Oswald continued silently in the darkness. Somehow, it seemed that this was a story that could only ever be expressed in the cover of darkness.  »Somehow I managed to get out of Gotham through the river. As you can see by my missing limb, things didn't go so well for me from there.«

»What happened?« Ed finally found himself breaching the silence on his part but his voice was barely above a whisper as not to break the spell. »To your leg?«

»The injury got infected.« Oswald huffed as if this was some kind of cosmic joke that only he could fully grasp right now. »And when I finally made it to one of the black-market doctors I knew had his practice outside of Gotham, it had already grown so bad that he couldn't do anything but take it off. I almost died in the process.«

As he stared into the darkness of his apartment all around him, he couldn't even begin to put into words how much he hated Jim Gordon in this very moment. Sure, he should be glad that Jim had not actually pulled the trigger on Oswald yet, he had left him to die.

»It took me a while to come back to Gotham and when I did … Well, lets just say I wasn't prepared for how much changed in my absence.«

»I am very sorry about your mother, Oswald.« He said but they both knew that this was not what Oswald had meant. He knew about Jim Gordon and Barbara Kean, there was no way around it now.

»How did you know about her? She had a different name than me so I doubt that you read her name in the obituaries and immediately connected her to me.« His mind was still sharp as a razor despite the sickness that surely clouded his thoughts.

»I may or may not have seen you around town before you vanished and … Well … «

»So you were a stalker.« This time his words sounded much less like an actual accusation.

»I wouldn't call it stalking.«

»Of course, you wouldn't.« He scoffed but for once he did not sound judgmental. Yet, Ed was still hesitant to believe that his cooking had actually managed to sway Oswald into trusting him.

»I admit that I have the habit of … overdoing things when I am interested in something or someone.« Ed sighed into the darkness and the low chuckle that escaped Oswald was enough to get him to relax just slightly and made him gather his courage to actually move on from there. »So you and James Gordon … How did that happen? Didn't he know that you were working for the mob?«

»I'm afraid not.« Oswald replied after a moment of silence and actually surprised him with his answer. He wouldn't have thought that Oswald would actually answer him. »We met at the club. He heard me sing and somehow we hit it off from there.«

»Did you love him?« It was an intimate question and everything inside of him told him that it was the wrong thing to ask Oswald. Yet, the man in his bed only sighed.

»It was a stormy little affair and that was it.« It was no answer to his question, though, the dark voice in the back of his head reminded him quietly. Then again, this lack of an actual answer was in itself answer enough. Yes, Oswald had indeed loved Jim Gordon but he would never admit to that. Maybe he still loved him. Maybe the knowledge of Jim’s engagement to the beautiful young Barbara Kean had only added to the pain he was suffering from. He wanted to say something desperately, something to make it all better and to make Oswald understand that Edward would be the better choice if it ever got to that point, but the words got stuck in his throat.

»I am sorry that it ended like this.« He said instead but once again, Oswald only scoffed.

»No you are not.« He replied and again, there was no accusation in his tone. »It would have ended bloody either way and I knew this from the start. There was no way we would have worked out in the long run. He was fire and I was ice.«

 _Opposites attract_ , the voice in the back of his head chimed up once again. However, as Edward turned on his side now and closed his eyes, he could not help the small smile that began to spread over his face. It was true, opposites did in fact attract each other but it were those who shared a kindred spirit that usually ended up surviving a storm.  

»You never built a prosthetic did you?« Oswald’s voice sounded a bit slurred by now as if he was barely clinging to his consciousness now. This time it was Ed who chuckled.

»I am a fast learner.«

 

**-End of Chapter 5-**


	6. Chapter 6

Ed woke up to the sound of moaning echoing through his apartment. The world was foggy with blurred edges before he found his glasses on the end table beside the old worn down sofa. At first, he could not quite place the sound that was assaulting his ears in the middle of the night but as the moaning flowed into a pitiful high-pitched wailing sound, he finally moved to sit upright. There was only one source in his apartment that could possibly be responsible for a sound like this.

He was on his feet before he could think about it and switched on the lamp next to the old battered sofa. There was something very comforting about knowing that he was not alone in his one-room apartment. That there was something else but the green light from the neon sign outside of the former factory. There was something strangely comforting about having someone to care for inside his own home. Having someone to come home to.

He had never quite realized how much he had wanted something like this until now that he was shaken out of his sleep by the low whine of the man he loved. He started to understand the people who adopted dogs or cats only to have something to come home to. The sound that Oswald produced, however, was almost animalistic, almost too pitiful to be a sound that could possibly escape the throat of any human being.

Reaching his bed, he found Oswald drenched in sweat and writhing in the sheets. He was clutching the blanket with pale bony fingers as if his life depended on it. His forehead was covered in deep wrinkles and every breath he took seemed straining hard labor. His skin was clammy under his fingertips and yet Oswald was burning up. His fever had skyrocketed without him even noticing it since they had both fallen asleep.

»Shit!« Ed cursed under his breath and to his surprise, Oswald's eyes snapped open at the sound. They were unfocused and glassy as they tried to look at him. The moment Oswald opened his mouth to speak, however, Edward wondered what he saw hovering above him for it clearly was not Ed’s face.

»Mother?« He was hallucinating as he was staring at Edward. And for once, Edward didn't know whether to play along or talk sense into him. »I don't feel good.«

»Your fever went up again.« Ed decided to stay calm and just gently brush the tips of his fingers over Oswald's left cheek. He wasn't good with emotions, wasn't good at dealing with people in distress but facts and explanation he could deliver without a problem. For once, as he felt Oswald’s soft skin under his fingertips, he felt as if now was the time he could actually touch Oswald without having his arm ripped off cleanly.

Even more surprising than the fact that he got to keep his arm, was only the fact that, as he tried pulling away his fingers, Oswald actually tried to take hold of his hand. He missed pathetically but the gesture was clear as daylight anyway.

»Don't go.« His voice was beyond pathetic. It was weak and quivering. Not to mention that he was barely audible. He knew that he should not stay and linger but rather start acting and begin to get the fever down again. However, instead of doing that, he placed his left hand on the side of Oswald's face.

 _Just for a moment_ , he told himself. _Just for a second or two_. Oswald's skin was soft under the tips of his fingers as he brushed them over his cheek gently. Sitting like this on the edge of the bed and caressing Oswald's cheek … Really, that was more than he could ever have hoped for.

»It's alright.« Ed whispered gently. »I am here for you. We will get you back on your feet and you will dance again. And Jim Gordon … He will-«

»Jim…« He sounded so hopeful, yet desperate. »Jim … I’m so sorry. I love you, Jim…«

It was silly. Oswald was hallucinating and he was not fully there at the moment. He did not know what he was saying or doing. Yet, he could not deny the pang of jealousy, nor the feeling of deep-seated anger that was tugging on his insides and pumping hot lava through his veins like poison.

Jim Gordon. Why Jim Gordon? What was it about this man? How could Oswald still love him? Yes, he was a good-looking guy and Ed was not going to debate that point but surely looks couldn't be everything! Not for someone like Oswald! Not for someone as intelligent and clever and beautiful and talented as Oswald!

»I love you too, Oswald.« It was not the right thing to say but it was what he felt. Oswald would not remember what he had said anyway and even in the unlikely scenario that he would remember the words, maybe he would think that he had just hallucinated them and Ed could go Scott-free. It actually felt amazing having said the magic three words.

There was no way that he would ever get the response from Oswald that he was hoping for and wanted with all his heart but at least right now he could say how he felt without the fear of being rejected by him.

»And I won't leave you, Oswald. I will keep you save and make sure that you will be alright, no matter what.«

He knew that it wasn't okay and that what he was doing was wrong and yet, as he leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead, he could not help it or stop himself from doing that. He had wanted this so much for such a long time and now that he got the chance … How could he pass on that opportunity?

Still, finally, he managed to get up. Half an hour later, he was seated next to him once more. He had succeeded in putting a wet cloth on his forehead and a wet leg compress on his left calf. _To pull the fever out_ , that was what he remembered his mother saying when he had been a child and plagued with fevers - which had been quite often the case, actually. He had been a sickly child.

Oswald had fallen back asleep - or rather fallen unconscious but Ed remained seated next to him and gently drove his fingers through his fluffy hair. For once in his life, he felt content and at ease without the voices in his head. Just him and Oswald and the world around them did not matter. He wanted to stay right here in this moment and on this bed forever. He wanted never to get up again. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving for work again or the thought of having to face Jim Gordon and his ridiculous partner Harvey Bullock ever again. How would he be able to keep himself from stabbing Jim through the eye the next time he would see him?

Instead of remaining seated forever on this bed, however, he soon found himself at his table again working on the new prosthesis in the half-light of the lamp that hung over the table. As the morning came and the sun shone through the large windows of his apartment again, finally he was done with his work. The prosthesis that lay now ready for use was certainly not perfect, as he was just a guy trying his best with what he had been given. Nevertheless, he was proud of his work and of what he had managed to achieve. Now, it should fit Oswald perfectly again and he would no longer need to see Oswald in pain because of some ill-fitting prosthesis.

Oswald awoke in the late hours of the morning, disoriented and weak but relatively fever-free. Edward had called in sick again and, as per usual, no one had really cared about his absence. Everyone was glad not to have to deal with the weird forensics guy who gave everyone he came across the creeps like a deadly disease. It wasn't as though knowing this wouldn't hurt. It hurt like a bitch when all he had ever wanted was to fit in with the group, really. At least Jim Gordon still tried to be friendly with him but … It was Jim Gordon and every friendly word of this man was like a slap in the face to Ed.

»Hey, Sleepyhead.« Edward murmured quietly as he walked over to him. This time, he did not make the same mistake of leaning over him so closely as not to spook him.

»What … Where … What happened?« His voice sounded hoarse and even weaker as it had last night if that was even possible.

»Your fever came back last night. You burned up quite a bit but I do believe that the worst is now behind you, dear Friend.«

He kept his voice low and friendly and his smile pleasant. He and Oswald had come far last night and he was unwilling to destroy that progress they made in being too forward with him. He needed Oswald to see him, needed him to trust him, needed him to forget that Jim Gordon even existed.

»You hallucinated even.« Maybe this was unwise. This was very unwise, probably.

»What did I say?« It was actually hard to tell if he was uncomfortable by the prospect of having revealed any secrets to Ed in his weakened state or if he was just curious.

»You asked for your mother … and for Gordon…«

»Why would I ask for him?« Oswald furrowed his brows as he tried to sit up a little higher on the bed and rest his back against the pillows behind him. He seemed still drowsy the way he slowly blinked at Ed as if he had a hard time getting into his head what Ed had told him just now.

»Because you still love him.«

»Love? No! This man brought me nothing but pain.« Oswald was quick to brush him off. »Physically and mentally. Although, I probably can't fault him for my leg. He had nothing to do with that. It was me who came to him with the information about the Wayne murders. I was so desperate to get him back and so frustrated with Fish that I snitched on her. All of this was my own fault.«

»And yet he pushed you in the harbor.« Ed said as he carefully sat down at the foot of the bed. He knew that he was in dangerous territory now. He didn't wish to push him away after Oswald had opened up to him last night quite a bit. All of this, every interaction they had was precious.

For a short moment there, Oswald seemed uncertain of how to react and the grimace he pulled made it painfully obvious that Ed had stuck his hand into an invisible hornets' nest with those words. It was just as he had imagined it would be for Oswald's first instinct was seemingly to defend Jim. »He had no other choice. I do not wish to defend him … But he had no other choice.« He said he didn't wish to defend him and yet that was what he did.

»He could have tried to find you and help you in secret afterward.«

Oswald pinched his lips into a tight line and Ed knew that he had hit a raw nerve there. Because yes, Jim could have found Oswald and saved him from losing his leg. Had Jim truly loved Oswald he would have done that and left Gotham with him. Hell, _he_ would have done exactly that had he been in Jim’s position. He would have done anything in his power to save the man he loved and not just pushed him into the river and leave it at that to go and pursue some rich socialite instead.

He was in awe that so many people rather chose someone who was not deserving of their love and trust instead of someone like Ed, who would do anything for them and treat them right. All those battered women came into mind that would get dragged along by worries friends and family members into the police station. He remembered a little redheaded girl only a few months before Oswald’s disappearance that came with her mother, claiming that her dad hat hit her mother. He could deal with death and decay but those scenes always struck a chord with him.

»You are right.« Oswald finally admitted. He would not have expected this. »He could have. But … Why would he risk so much for just a little affair? I loved him, yes, but it was just an affair. We were bound to fail sooner or later. Maybe it was better this way.«

That was what Oswald was trying to tell himself, at least. That was what he wanted to believe desperately because it would make everything so much easier, right? How could he compete with that? How could he compete with that idea of Jim and their relationship that Oswald obviously had? How could he compete with a man like Jim Gordon and the danger and thrill a relationship as theirs had promised to Oswald?

»Your new prosthesis is finished.« The words just escaped him without him intending to say them just yet as if they were the answer to the question he had only asked himself. Now, however, he could not take them back anymore. »I mean … It's not perfect, but the best I could do with what I got. At least it should fit you a lot better now. It was too big and too long, which would have fucked up your hips eventually. It should now have the perfect length and I even slimmed the foot down a bit and brought it into the right shape. Your feet are way more delicate than that, so … You wanna try it?«

Only as he looked up at Oswald again, did he realize how badly he had been rambling again. There he was, going on and on about his feet like a total creep! No wonder Oswald was wary of him! He would be too! But Oswald stared at him out of large eyes, almost with a sense of awe in them perhaps. Probably because he had never seen anyone as creepy as Edward before. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and crawling up his neck.

»I would like to try it.« Oswald finally broke the uncomfortable silence between them. Edward was certain that he was now the one hallucinating as Oswald was actually granting him a small smile. He was so taken aback by it, that he didn't know what to do for a second before he got moving again.

He hurried over to the table maybe a little too hastily before he grabbed the prosthesis and returned to the bed where Oswald had moved to sit on the edge of the mattress.

»May I?« Ed pointed at his right leg that was still covered by the pajama. First, Oswald seemed rather uncomfortable with the idea but then he just pulled up the leg of his pajamas to reveal the bandaged stump with a small shrug. »The fastenings were all wrong too.« Ed explained as he crouched down before him. Suddenly, all of this was way too intimate and he found himself hesitating. It was silly, of course, after all, he had seen him naked already and had patched him up. Still, this had a whole different quality to it because Oswald allowed all of this.

He was working gingerly as he fastened the prosthesis to Oswald's leg. As this was done, he pulled down the pajama leg again and looked up. »How does it feel?«

»I hardly feel anything.« Oswald replied deadpan, leaving Edward uncertain whether this was actually good or bad now. As the younger man moved to stand, though, Ed was quick to help him out, giving him a hand and pulling him carefully to his feet.

Oswald was unsteady at first but with Ed's help, he actually managed a few steps. He was still weak though and so they had to stop eventually. Only as Ed moved to remove the prosthesis again did Oswald stop him. »Please, leave it.« He murmured. »It's nice to feel whole again.«

※※※※※※※

It didn't go easier from there. Oswald was a man of little patience and great anger at the world and his enemies and the things that he couldn't change or that were beyond his control. He was unwilling to cope with his new situation and even more unwilling to give his body time to heal. Every day when Ed would come back from work, he would find Oswald trying to walk around the flat, throwing one tantrum after the other, whenever his new leg would not cooperate the way he wished it would.

So, coming back this night to things being thrown across the room and an angry roar that tore from Oswald's throat, was really not too surprising. Not even that he found him on the ground was a surprise by now. A part of him, that nasty poisonous voice in the back of his head, was annoyed by Oswald's continued display of weakness. Edward, on the other hand, could only imagine the pain he was going through. He had lost so much in the past four months. He was allowed his breakdowns and his fits of rage. What he did not like this much was when Oswald would throw something at him, in this case, a cup that shattered behind Edward on the wall as he just stepped through the door and closed it. He barely dodged the projectile.

»GET OUT!«

»I’m afraid that this is my apartment.« Edward did his best to remain as calm as he possibly could under these circumstances. It wasn't always easy to keep his patience when someone was throwing cups at one’s head.

He put his briefcase to the side and hung his coat to the coat rag as Oswald remained on the ground between the bed and the kitchen. He was still furious, so much in fact that he was all but boiling with rage.

»Your prosthesis is worthless!« He hissed with all the venom he had. »It doesn’t work!«

Those words stung more than they had any right to. This was just Oswald lashing out in his frustration and nothing more. He knew this. Yet, it stung. He was a man who prided himself on his intellect and skill. He knew that he had done a good job and that Oswald just needed to blame someone else for his inability to properly use this new prosthesis. He understood all of this but this didn't change the fact that he felt anger boiling inside of him as he ignored Oswald on the ground and walked over to his kitchenette opening one of the cupboards and pulling out a bottle of bourbon.

He kept ignoring Oswald like a child on the floor of a supermarket that was screaming its lungs out because it wanted candy as he took out two glasses as well and poured a generous amount of alcohol in both glasses. He grabbed one of the glasses and walked over to Oswald. Of course, there was a chance that Oswald would throw the glass at him again but he was willing to risk it. Oswald stared at the glass first as if he was truly contemplating throwing it at him but then he took the glass gingerly and swallowed down the bourbon at once. He seemed much calmer after that, as Ed took the empty glass and walked back over to the table where he refilled it but placed it on the table instead.

The invitation to join him at the table was pretty clear, he assumed and indeed Oswald finally got up from the ground and limped over to him. They drank in silence for a moment until Oswald finally broke the quietude again.

»I used to dance with my mother on Christmas every year.« He mumbled into his freshly refilled glass after he had raised it to his mouth. »We hadn't had many friends or acquaintances, let alone family. I never got to meet my grandparents and my father died when she was pregnant with me. We would dance together, sing songs and play the piano. She got me into dancing. Of course, my mother had two left feet, but she could play the piano and was a wonderful singer. Me not so much.«

The chuckle that left Oswald's throat was indeed a little surprising to Ed. A few minutes ago, the other man had been a mess on the floor of his apartment, raging and growling like an animal and now he was sitting here, chuckling and talking about his mother. _Ah, the magic of alcohol_.

»Did you know that I used to dance ballet?«

»No, I didn't.« Edward replied in surprise. He had researched quite a bit about Oswald beforehand but this fact had somehow escaped him. Oswald seemed to pick up on that too as he smirked at him with mirth in those clear eyes.

»I stopped when I was fifteen. I started it as a toddler because I liked how pretty the ballerinas on television looked and my mother thought it was cute. That was what got me into ice skating as well. But when puberty hit … Let me tell you it was no fun from there on and not just because of the other kids in school. I think I don't need to explain how my classmates reacted as they found out … I mean I was always bullied so I didn't expect anything else. But that wasn't why I stopped, actually.«

»Then why did you?«

»I grew tired of having to play the girl.« Oswald chuckled. »When I was a teenager I was not the only guy in my ballet classes anymore but I was the shortest and the thinnest and so I was often used almost as a prop by the other guys. They needed to learn how to lift someone, after all, and so I was their preferred target.« He laughed. »I absolutely hated it. Today I think that was stupid. I should have continued and just don't care if some burly ballet dancer wanted to whirl me over his head or not. Though I must say that my mother was relieved when I stopped.«

»Was she afraid that you would turn gay from it?« He could only imagine that most parents who were as old-fashioned as Gertrud Kapelput had been would fear something like that.

»No.«  Oswald laughed. »Actually quite the contrary. She was afraid I would run off with some painted whore. My mother wanted to stay the only woman in my life because no girl would ever be good enough for me. I think … Had I been brave enough to come out to her, she would have actually been relieved.«

»Why didn't you tell her?«

»I didn't want her to start to try hooking me up with someone. Sex and relationships were never important to me, I must say. I was more focused on my work or school or really anything else. I just wanted to do my own thing without being bothered by this stuff. I never thought that I would find love anyway. I am aware that I am a bit weird looking so the best I could have hoped for was casual sex and that I got when I wanted it.« He trailed off a little and Ed realized quite quickly why. He was thinking about Jim again.

Had this been the first time that Oswald had been in love with someone?

Before he could think twice about it, Ed rose from his chair and walked over to the old gramophone he had next to his piano in one corner of the room. As Oswald was sipping his drink and absentmindedly stared out of one of the large windows, Ed switched the machine on and put a record on. It didn't take long for his favorite jazz tunes to softly fill the apartment. He was a great fan of the music of the nineteen forties because somehow he felt understood the best when listening to songs like these. They were slow and gentle for the most part but there was something else in them. Maybe the yearning for better times, the yearning for the past and a world that was not so fast and out of control as this.

He hesitated before he went back to the table but when he did he noticed that Oswald had refilled his own glass again. The bottle was almost empty. First, Oswald seemed confused as Ed extended his hand to him but then he downed his glass, took Ed's hand and slowly rose to his feet. For such a small man, he could stomach quite a lot of liquor.

Edward gingerly led him away from the table where they had a bit more space before he put his hands on Oswald's hips carefully. It was only thanks to the alcohol that he was not feeling as if he would need to puke from nervousness as he prompted Oswald to follow his lead. He was certainly not as good a dancer as Oswald was but he was at least decent in what he was doing now.

He was surprised that Oswald even considered dancing with him and he was prepared as Oswald stumbled and started cursing like an old fisherman who had one too many drinks already. »Fuck this shit!« He growled suddenly and quickly pulled away from Edward immediately. »Why even bother? Why are you trying so hard anyway? We both know what you really want, don't we? So why aren't you a man and just take what you want instead of this charade here! Don't act as if you would be any different than any other guy! You want to fuck me? Then just get it over with already so that you can throw me out again like trash but don't act all sappy and romantic with this crappy old music and trying to dance with me! Just in case you haven't noticed: I am a fucking cripple, Ed! I can't dance and I never will again!«

There was a part of him, the more sinister dark voice that he came to loathe throughout the years, that urged him to take Oswald up on his offer and just take what he wanted from the man. He was stronger than Oswald anyway. It would be so easy to take him right then and there, to bend him over his table or throw him on his bed. Instead, as Oswald stumbled backward and nearly fell, Ed remained patient and quickly caught hold of his left wrist again to keep him from falling.

»Would you fucking stop touching me already you creep?« Oswald shouted and though the insult rang in his ears and hit a little too close to home for Ed's liking, he bit his tongue and pulled Oswald against him again. It felt like trying to wrestle a wild beast as he closed his arms around Oswald's back and, in effect, pinned his arms to his sides. »What is wrong with you? Do you need this so badly, yes?«

»Yes.« Edward replied all too quickly, but his voice was low and almost a little more threatening than he had intended it to sound. »Yes, I need this and I know you need it too.« He felt him fight back in urgency now but this didn't stop him from pulling him even closer. »And if you would stop cursing and whining like a little bitch, you would maybe realize that I don't wish to cause you harm. Had I only wanted to fuck you, I would have done that already.« Oswald knew just as well as Edward that he had the upper hand right now and that all Oswald's struggling would not have helped him against Ed, had he honestly wished to harm him.

»Just shut up and listen to the music.« His voice was almost a low growl at this point and he actually felt how Oswald seized his struggle. Maybe he had just tired himself out a little. »Listen to the music and just follow my lead.«

He was pretty sure that Oswald was already planning his murder as he allowed Oswald a little more freedom again. Once more, he gingerly placed his hands on Oswald's hips and he was surprised as Oswald finally out his own hands on Edward’s shoulders and allowed him to lead. After a moment or two, he heard himself humming to the tune from the old gramophone as he was carefully leading Oswald through the room. It was an awkward shuffle at first, it was clumsy on Oswald’s part, but still, they danced and he loved every second of it.

Oswald was warm underneath his hands and he was close and alive and allowed him to touch him even. »You can do everything you want, as long as you put your mind to it. I believe in you, Oswald, even when you do not believe in yourself.«

The look Oswald shot him was one of utter amazement and one he had never seen on the smaller man before now. It was probably the alcohol that made Oswald looked at him like this and it was most definitely the alcohol that led Oswald to let his fingers wander to the back of Ed’s neck and to pull him down to his level so that his lips could brush against Ed’s.

 

**-End of Chapter 6-**


	7. Chapter 7

His phone rang for third time that morning as he tried desperately to focus on his work. Of all people, it was Jim Gordon who entered his office just as the phone started ringing once again, after announcing his arrival at the office with just one single sharp knock at the door. »Aren't you going to pick up?« He asked with an amused little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

»Nope.« Maybe the response came a little too swiftly for the detective as to keep him from noticing how uncomfortable Edward was right now. As the phone stopped ringing, he caught himself thanking every deity he could possibly name. The awkward silence between him and his nemesis lingered on for a moment longer, though.

»Your girlfriend?« Jim then asked and nodded in the direction of Ed’s phone that was lying on his desk amongst the paperwork he was filling out. The phone stood out like a sore thumb between his usual mess and stared back at him almost accusingly. »I didn't know you had one. Hey, why don't you come over with her someday for dinner? I still don't know many people in Gotham and I thought this would be nice, right? Barbara would love this.«

 _Oh no, she wouldn't_ , the voice in the back of his head snickered at Jim’s pitiful attempt of making small talk. Ed, however, remained calm on the outside. »What makes you think that this was my girlfriend?«

»Oh« Jim suddenly seemed a bit uncomfortable himself as he scratched his neck gingerly. Looking at him now and seeing this strange constipated smile he sometimes got going or his crappy army haircut, it was an actual enigma to Ed why Oswald had fallen for such a man. A man who always played by the rules and tried to be the hero of every given situation, going even as far as to trying to befriend Edward. »I just … Well, you seemed a little different lately, that's all.«

»Different how?« Maybe his own voice sounded too inquisitive but he tried to hide his nagging paranoia behind a small smile.

»Well, you appeared to be much more tired than usual and you actually smiled more when you were lost in thought, so I figured you were thinking about your girlfriend - who is probably also the reason for your lack of sleep.« It would have been much more acceptable had he not winked at him at the end of that sentence. But while Edward cringed on the inside, his face remained a stoic mask of pure professionalism. His mouth, however, was a little quicker and entirely moved without his consent.

»It was not my girlfriend.«

»Oh-«

»My boyfriend, actually.«

»Oh!« The way Jim’s face lit up at these words made him even more uncomfortable than anything he had ever said before today.

»Yeah, he’s having a hard time at the moment. It's all pretty fresh and his last boyfriend … Well, let's say the relationship ended quite ugly, that's all I’m gonna say. If you’d ask me, that son of a bitch would deserve to rot in Blackgate for all eternity, but that's certainly none of my business.«

Jim seemed actually concerned now and as he leaned with his side against the cabinet beside the door, Ed realized that he made a tremendous mistake in opening up to Jim about his _boyfriend_. Jim seemed intrigued, if anything, that Edward had opened up to him like this. Or maybe it was the boy scout in Jim who hand once again found an opportunity to be the good guy. »Did he hurt him or something?«

»No.« There was a part of him that felt a sick kind of pleasure in talking with Jim about Jim’s own actions without the detective realizing that. »No, but he let other people hurt him. Quite badly so. You see, he was a wonderful dancer until that happened. He was severely injured because of his boyfriend’s inactions. He’s suffering greatly now because he will probably never dance again, you know?«

»That guy sounds like a class-A asshole, if you ask me, Ed.« Jim huffed and shook his head slightly as if he couldn't believe that anyone let something like this happen to someone they loved. »Well, I am glad that your boyfriend is with you now.«

»Oh?« That truly took him by surprise but Jim actually smiled warmly at him. Almost as if they truly were friends and did not just act the part.

»Of course!« Jim smiled. »You are a good guy, Ed. Don't listen to what the others say, alright? You are a good guy and you mean well. I am sure your boyfriend can deem himself lucky to have you. Anyway, the offer still stands: dinner with me and Barbara someday.«

As Ed later arrived at the apartment, he felt actually conflicted about what he wanted to do next. The kiss was still fresh on his mind as was everything that happened after that kiss too. Oswald had been so desperate all of the sudden. He had been clinging to him as if his life would depend on it and though a part of him had rejoiced as Oswald had pushed him closer towards the bed, the more rational part of his brain had been deeply unsettled by his tears.

It had not needed a genius to realize that Oswald had not actually wanted to sleep with him because he liked him or desired him. He had wanted to sleep with him to feel like he was still desirable, despite it all. And though this darker side of him had relentlessly tormented him for being stupid and not taking Oswald up on this very clear offer, this was not how he wanted his first time with Oswald to be. He didn't want to be a substitute for something Oswald would never have again. He didn't want to be the next best thing to Jim Gordon who was infuriatingly nice to him at work unlike all the other people at the GCPD. He wanted to sleep with Oswald because Oswald wanted _him_ and that was it.

Needless to say, Oswald had not been happy to be rejected by Edward.

»Really, Oswald, you can't keep calling me at work all the time.« Edward sighed as he entered his flat and closed the door behind him again slowly without even sparing so much as a glance at his environment. »I mean, I don't have anything against you calling me every now and again at work, but twenty times in one hour? Really? That was a bit much, don't you think?«

There was no response and that actually prompted him to pay attention to his surroundings finally as he slowly turned away from the coat rag where he had just put his coat and briefcase as he did every evening when he came home.

»You know, I was very surprised as one of my men told me that he saw my little penguin sneaking around town earlier this day.« He froze in place as he took in the scene before him and though his instincts told him to turn around and run, he couldn't do it. Fish Mooney sat at his kitchen table in one of her tight glittery dresses, her long legs crossed elegantly and her high heels resembling murder weapons. She sat on his crappy wooden chair like a queen on her throne and as if this entire place was her’s to do with as she pleased. No wonder Oswald had hated this woman.

Behind Fish were two of her goons, men that had the physique of price boxers with gruff faces and dark glares directed at Edward, clad in cheap Italian suits manufactured by cheap Chinese laborers. Directly at her right-hand side stood a third man whom Edward could actually name from his various database entries. Butch Gilzean, a fine dressed criminal who gave himself the appearance of a gentleman in his best pin-striped suit and his polished leather shoes. He looked actually quite friendly whenever he was not threatening someone to blow out their brains. To Fish’s feet, however, was Oswald - forced to his knees with blood clinging to his face coming from a wound of undetermined origin.

»And of course I told Carlo here« She pointed at the man behind her left shoulder. »that this could not possibly be true, after all, Detective Gordon shot him four months ago and threw his skinny ass in the river where scum like he belongs anyway. Imagine my surprise as he sent me a picture of my little penguin at the grocery store right around the corner from your apartment! Of course, I had Carlo follow him and send me the address he went to. Even greater was my surprise as I realized that the little snitch was currently hiding in the apartment of a member of the GCPD.«

She rose to her feet at those words only to slowly walk closer towards Ed who had not yet moved from the door. »You know« She all but purred as she finally reached him and dragged one of her long fingernails, that honestly were more like claws than anything else by this point, across the underside of his chin. »As I learned that he was still alive, my first instinct was to go to Gordon and blow his brains out but Oswald practically begged me not to. And, you know, I am a generous woman. I can forgive Gordon for not shooting him. He was in love. It's understandable. And when Butch showed me a picture of you, I could even understand why you took him in. I _remember_ you.«

Her voice had become soft as melted butter by this point but Ed's heart was racing and his eyes darting from her brown ones to Oswald’s terrified blue ones in the background every now and then. »You came to my club almost every night for weeks and weeks and weeks, always staying until closing time. First, I thought you just liked the place or that you were just one more single loser on the desperate search for love at a place like mine. But then, knowing what I know now and putting two and two together, I realize that Oswald was the reason, right? Because after Oswald vanished, you stopped showing up too.«

He didn't know what to say to her. Was there anything he could say? »You deduced correctly.« Edward replied carefully but politely and drew a laugh from Miss Mooney in the process as she gently patted his left cheek with one of her slim hands that were overloaded with rings and all kinds of jewelry.

»I like you.« She smiled and took a step back again. »Though I truly can't understand what it is about this scrawny little shit over there. First a handsome young man like James Gordon and now you? You could do better than this waddling little creature.«

Again, he glanced at Oswald and Fish actually caught glimpse of this as it seemed. »Oh no, you actually love him, do you?« Fish then sighed almost theatrically as if she wouldn't know already that Edward loved Oswald. Why else would he have visited her club every night? Why else would he have taken Oswald in? He was no Jim Gordon. He was no good Samaritan. He was not a good guy. »Too bad that I have to kill him.«

»No!« This time it was Ed who stepped forward to take a hold of her left wrist even though two of her goons immediately drew their guns at him. »Please, no! You don't need to kill him! He’s learned his lesson!«

»Lovely, really.« Fish replied dryly as she pulled her wrist free with one sharp glare. »Oswald I have to congratulate you for finding yourself such a knight in shining armor. Not like your last boyfriend, huh? Jim Gordon seemed all too eager to get rid of you as he learned the truth about your affiliation to the underworld. Poor bastard, I actually felt a little sorry for him. However« She turned her attention back to Edward with another sharp glare. »I am afraid I cannot comply to your wishes, Mr. Nygma. Cripple or not, there is still a bullet with his name on it. Snitches end up in ditches, that's the rule and he knew that rule, yet he decided to break it and go against my back. He threw everything away, my love and kindness, my trust in him, and even his life. And for what? For a guy who didn't even want him. Butch, would you mind?«

Butch Gilzean, for once, did not seem to find too much enjoyment in it as he pulled out his gun from its holster at his leg to point the muzzle directly at Oswald's head.

»Any last words?« Fish turned to Oswald but she did not seem interested in any of this. For her, this was just routine as if killing a bug with her heels.

As Oswald peeled his eyes from the floor again to look at Edward, his heart was already beating in his throat and he felt as if he needed to vomit every second now. He had never been good in dealing with stressful situations and he had never been involved in anything criminal or illegal. But in a few minutes there would be a body on his floorboards and then he would either need to dump Oswald, the man he loved, in a shallow grave, the river or actually call the cops and explain what happened.

»Thank you, Ed.« Oswald finally said and his voice was hoarse and resigned as if he had already given up on everything. As if there was not even a spark of fight left in him. »You were a good friend.«

»Isn't that lovely.« Fish mocked. »At last our Beast found his Prince Charming. Too bad not every fairy tale has a happy end. Butch-«

»No!« Once more Ed surged forward and this time he actually lunged at Butch to wrestle the gun from his hands - with minimal success as the other two men quickly jumped into action to take hold of Ed. »No! Please, Miss Mooney, I implore you! Please spare him! He learned his lesson! He lost his leg, he lost his mother, he lost everything. Just please let him live.«

»And how would I look then, Mr. Nygma? With a snitch who betrayed me and my trust, who was like a son to me, roaming around in Gotham?« She huffed in annoyance at the display in front of her. »No one would take me seriously ever again. No, this has to be done.«

»We leave Gotham!« The words blurted out of him without him even thinking about it. »We leave town and we will never return. No one has to know that he is still alive. He will never mean a threat to you or your business ever again, I promise.«

Finally, Fish seemed intrigued by something he had said as she glanced at him almost as if she tried to read him and make sure that he was honest enough. Whatever that meant in this case. He just wanted to have Oswald save. He was ready to promise anything to her and she knew that. »You would say anything to save his sorry ass.« She smirked.

»You have my word, Miss Mooney. If he comes back to Gotham … I promise you that I will put a bullet into his brain myself. I promise.« He pleaded once more and ignored the way his voice broke around the edges. By now he felt as if he was repeating the same two words over and over again and they were running wild in his head all the same. _I promise, I promise, I promise - just let him live, don't take him from me_.

»Now we are getting somewhere.« Fish smirked and nodded to her goons to let go of Ed. »Put the gun away, Butch. Today is not the day.« Had he won? He could almost not believe it. Fish, however, crouched down in front of Oswald and pulled his head up by his hair only to brush her fingers almost lovingly over his cheek. »I promise you, Oswald, if you ever return to Gotham, you won’t get a bullet.« She purred. »A bullet would be mercy and if you come back again, you will not find mercy again. I will beat you to death with a baseball bat if I ever see you again until your brains are splattered across the pavement and not even your dead mother would be able to recognize your head after I smashed it like a watermelon. Are we clear?«

Oswald nodded sharply and again Ed found himself thanking every deity he could name that Oswald, for once, kept his sharp tongue in check.

»Good.« Fish smiled and pressed a kiss to his hair before rising back to her feet. »This man, Oswald, will be your downfall, that I tell you.« Only as she reached the apartment door, she turned around once more. »But I will not let this go without the proper punishment for a member of the GCPD housing a criminal. Butch, would you be so kind as to give Mr. Nygma a sample of what's coming if he breaks his promise?«

Fish left him confused for just a moment before the first blow came completely out of the blue. His ears were ringing as he slammed to the ground and it took him a moment to realize that he had been hit with the butt of the gun in Butch’s right hand. There was a small scream coming from somewhere, but the ringing in his ears made it almost impossible to make out from where the sound actually came. He felt disoriented and had no chance to recover as the first kick slammed into his back. The attack was swift and he hardly had time to even scream as a barrage of kicks came crashing into his body immediately. It was like lying outside on the pavement during a hailstorm only that the hailstones had the size of boulders.

As quickly as it started, the onslaught stopped and Ed found himself curled up in a ball on the ground, his arms protectively wrapped around his head. He could faintly hear steps moving away from him as the agony of the attack started to settle in and replace the shock he had been in.

»This was the first and only warning you guys get. Make the most of it.« It was Butch Gilzean’s voice addressing him quietly but Ed had no strength in him to lower his arms and actually look at the brute before he left.

»You will have left Gotham forever by tomorrow night.« Fish’s voice chimed up one last time and only as the door slammed shut behind her and her entourage, there was movement again. A scrambling little sound on the ground next to him before trembling fingers clawed at his green pullover.

»Ed?« It was undoubtedly Oswald’s voice even though it was hoarse and thin and trembling and panicked. »Ed! Ed say something!«

Under different circumstances, Oswald’s panic would have put a smile on his face but right now, he could only feel his head pounding and his heart racing inside his chest. He still couldn't put words to what had just happened to him and even more astoundingly, that they were both still alive. He allowed Oswald to pull his arms away from his head only to find himself staring mesmerized at those crystal blue eyes and his panicked pale face.

This had been worth it. He couldn't quite deny that. »I'm alive.« He whispered. »I'm alive.«

Oswald’s head was heavy as his forehead came resting on his chest the next moment but Edward didn't mind. He didn't even mind the fact that he would need to quit his job, grab all his money, sell his apartment and leave everything behind by tomorrow night for a man who was still in love with another guy. Still, he brushed his fingers through Oswald’s raven-black hair and dragged his nails over his scalp more to calm himself down than Oswald.

»We will come back.« He murmured as if to reassure Oswald though this was clearly for himself. »We will come back and Fish will bleed.«

Oswald nodded against his chest and as he finally raised his head and their lips met this time around, there was no desperation in it.

※※※※※※※

They should be packing by this point. Instead, they were still in bed and Ed wouldn't have it any other way. The threat of Fish Mooney marching in on them to shoot them in cold blood had lost all meaning to him by now, although it was always hanging above their heads like the sword of Damocles. How could he think about that woman when he had Oswald underneath him?

Oswald was beautiful in every regard, even in the lingering green half-light around them coming from the neon sign outside of his window that painted shadows on Oswald’s lean body where there weren't supposed to be any. He was far from perfect when it came to his outer appearance. Oswald was actually littered with imperfections, from the dusting of freckles on his face and shoulder a little down his chest, to his right leg and everything in between. Not to mention the bruises all over his body from Fish Mooney’s previous assault on him. His nose was crooked and too long for his otherwise delicate face. And his character, hell, he had never met anyone more annoying than Oswald Cobblepot. Yet, he was god damn gorgeous to Edward. Not even the fact that he was missing his right leg could change anything about that.

He would spend his life worshipping his body if he would ever get the chance.

»Oswald« He breathed against his lips as he parted from him only for a second, their bodies still pressed together without even an inch of space between them. Months ago he wouldn't have dared to dream of something like this. He wouldn't have dared to imagine how inviting Oswald’s legs would open for him so he could slither between them, he wouldn't have dared to imagine how good it would feel to actually be engulfed in his heat or how Oswald’s back would arch every time Edward would move and find that perfect angle that would make stars appear before his eyes.  

Oswald’s breathing hitched as Edward took his left leg and put if on his shoulder for a better angle. The pure feeling of being inside of him was almost too much for Ed already as he was able to feel every little thing now, every bit of movement, every little breath that was ghosting over his face, the way Oswald’s heart was racing in unison with his own and how his stomach fluttered under the pressure of Edward on top of him.

Oswald was already too far gone in pleasure at this time to say or do anything. It was enough that their eyes would remain locked, to him at least. Oswald’s hands on his neck that were pulling him in even closer were almost too much and never nearly enough at the same time. There was something animalistic and yet pure about the way Oswald looked at him as if he would see him for the very first time as they were melting into each other, blurring the lines of where one began and the other ended.  

Oswald’s left foot was digging softly into the skin right underneath his shoulder blade. He had insisted on keeping the false leg on and Edward couldn't have cared less. He loved him with or without that damn leg. To him, it didn't matter. To him, the only thing of importance was that Oswald felt alright in this situation. He didn't want him to think about Jim Gordon even for a second, he didn't want him to compare him to Jim even once.

To him, this was not just about having sex, not just about fucking Oswald as he had desired to do for such a long time now. He took his time. It was slow and much more tender than he would have ever expected with a man like Oswald.

Only as Oswald bucked his hips he slid deeper inside, moaning his content and allowed his elbows to dig into the mattress, boxing Oswald's head with his arms in effect while stealing sloppy kisses from his panting mouth. Oswald was completely relaxed underneath him, breathing slowly against his lips as Edward kept that slow rhythm in which he thrust into the smaller man.

The deep moans that escaped Oswald’s pale throat were almost like soft little sighs of pleasure as he snaked his long thin fingers into Edward’s hair to grab him tightly, almost pulling at his hair while Edward’s thrusts became even deeper, filling him in the most perfect way as if they were meant to be in this position, as if the universe had designed them to fit together so neatly.

He did his best to hit his prostate with every movement and Oswald couldn't stop moaning even louder now, not ashamed in the slightest of his body’s reactions towards all of this.

Somehow Edward managed to snake a hand between their impossible close bodies, getting a hold of Oswald’s cock that was pressing into his stomach to jerk it in in rhythm with his thrusts, and Oswald moaned his approval. As Oswald threw his head back in the pillow and bared his throat at Edward, it was almost impossible to resist him any further. Their next kiss was wet and messy, mostly because of the pace Edward was keeping, and because of the moans leaving both their mouths. It was mostly tongue and teeth by this point, their lips wet with saliva, but it was perfect and Edward wouldn't want it any other way as he saw the beast inside the other man for the first time that seemed too similar to the monster lurking beneath the surface of his own mind.

No matter how Oswald liked to portray himself to the others around him, this, right here, this was the real Oswald - without restraints, without shame. Naked as on the day he was born, vulnerable, raw and open. His body was taut as a bowstring.

As Oswald’s panting grew even heavier, he knew that he was close. There was no need for words because Edward could feel it in the way his body tensed around him already. Edward’s thrusts were more erratic now, and his own voice broke as he moaned louder than before.

It was quite the sight to see Oswald Cobblepot find pleasure and reach climax. Edward decided that he loved everything about it and would not want to go a day without seeing this again. The way his most primal instinct was to thrust into Edward’s hand just as it was his to keep thrusting fast and hold himself deep inside his lover when he was coming, leaving no space between their bodies, the utter bliss on his face, or how he screwed his eyes shut and curled his toes almost painfully. He loved how his body was shaking as Edward came inside him with not a care in the world for protection or anything else that lay in the realm of decency.

It took them a lot longer to untangle their limbs afterward but when they did, all they could do was fall down on the mattress in this way too narrow bed side by side, panting and not regretting this one bit. Not even the pain of his bruises or the humiliation of having been attacked in his own home, could wipe away the grin from his face.

 

**-End of Chapter 7-**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff to finish this off!

They were lucky that most people these days would not dare to skate on a frozen pond anymore because of the fear of the ice breaking under their weight. The sky above them was of a clear azure blue but the clouds that were already gathering above promised of a new wave of snow that would soon hit the small town just outside of Gotham. Maybe the word _town_ was stretching it a bit, but it had everything a proper town needed, including a frozen duck pond.

»I’m not sure that this is a good idea, Ed.«

»You never trust my judgment.« Ed grinned as he slowly moved backward on the ice. He was certainly not the most skilled ice skater but his intentions were pure as he pulled Oswald along with him.

The smaller man was wobbly on his legs as he was forced to follow Ed over the frozen pond. It had taken him quite a lot of convincing and even more kisses to get Oswald here in the first place for the bird-like man was sometimes a lot more like a mule than anything else.

It was New Year's Eve, a little over a year had passed ever since Edward had first found the courage to talk to Oswald. He looked at this day as some sort of anniversary for them. The ugliness of the past few months, of Oswald's injury and the loss of his leg lay behind them and if it would have been for Ed, they could stay forever in this small town not too far away from Gotham and live their lives together like they had for the past months ever since they had needed to leave Gotham.

However, he knew all too well that Oswald’s yearning to go back to Gotham was far stronger than his desire for a peaceful life out here with Ed. A life in which Edward would come home from the morgue to him like any normal couple, a life in which Oswald would sometimes even cook dinner for him before his return. A life in which there was no James Gordon as a constant presence lurking behind Oswald's crystal blue eyes and no Fish Mooney who roamed Oswald’s nightmares.

Needless to say, Oswald Cobblepot was not the type of guy for a peaceful life. He was not a homemaker, he was not someone like Kristen Kringle who would have been perfectly content with sitting at home on rainy Sundays with Ed. He was a builder and they both knew that Oswald was meant for greater things than these.

And he had to admit, that he too could not imagine living such a peaceful normal life anymore.

He had always known that it would be inevitable that they would return to Gotham and much sooner than he liked too. Maybe a part of him was even worried that Oswald’s feelings towards him would fade away as soon as they would be back and as soon as he would inevitably face off to Jim Gordon again. Jim had married Barbara in summer. There had been an announcement in the newspapers but Oswald had not said a thing about it as if it hadn't been even worth mentioning it.

The ring on Oswald’s left hand that he could feel through the leather of his purple gloves, gave him reassurance and maybe he was a little pathetic that he actually needed this reassurance. Still, he found himself staring mesmerized at the silver ring on Oswald’s left hand every night when they would fall asleep side by side. Sometimes he still could not believe that Oswald was his after all that turmoil, after all this chaos and heartache. The novelty had still not worn off and he hoped that this would never happen either.

He would never want to take his life with Oswald for granted.

»Come on we have to test out this new leg of yours properly now.« Ed smirked as he coaxed his husband to follow him further into the pond. In the past few months, he had used every free second to build him one prosthesis after the other, always trying to design the perfect fit for Oswald.

»We don't need to test it out!« Oswald huffed but grinned anyway. »It's perfect, I already told you.«

»Then prove it!«

»I'll prove it in kicking your ass!« Oswald huffed but he followed him without Edward needing to pull him. In fact, he finally even let go of his hands to prove to Edward that his new leg was, in fact, perfect for him and that he knew no fear, despite how he had clung to his hands just a moment earlier.

He was still a bit unsteady on his thin legs but at least Edward found comfort in the fact that Oswald, under his care, had recovered quite beautifully during the past months. He had even put a bit more weight on and now did not look as if he was on the brink of collapsing from hunger all the time anymore.

He was still far removed from the Oswald he had seen a year ago on that frozen pond in Gotham but as Edward got to watch him now, he could spot a glimpse of that Oswald once again.

»Oh come on now, you can't just stand there like this and stare!« Oswald's voice pulled him right out of his sudden stupor and he couldn't help but grin about his words. »I’m not a penguin in the zoo, you know?«

This time it was Oswald who extended his hands to Edward in a silent invitation to join him in a dance without music. Just the two of them alone here in this small park surrounded by skeleton-like trees. The sun was already low on the sky and most people in the small town were probably taking care of the last preparations for their new years eve parties and dinners. Edward had always enjoyed quiet days like this and even more so since he got to spend them with Oswald.

Looking back on the past few months, there was not a thing that he would regret. He had liked his job at the GCPD but he had not liked the people there. Jim Gordon, funnily enough, had been the only person there who had been willing to treat him with respect and some sense of dignity at the very least and that was more than he could have hoped for. To everyone else there, Ed had only been that weird freak no one liked to be around and for the longest time, he had told himself that this was okay, that everyone was entitled to their own opinion about another person. It was Oswald who had opened his eyes and allowed that darker part inside of him to flourish.

He was none to tell Edward that he could not allow this dark side of his to take control from time to time, he was none to judge Edward for his dark urges. He had learned much of Oswald in the past months and by now they were more than lovers, more than husbands. They were partners in crime and that seemed somehow even more intimate than anything else. It required a whole different sense of trust in another person. It required trusting Oswald with his life and that Oswald trusted him with his life even in dangerous situations. Their last heist had proven that even clearer to him once more as he had found himself on the other side of the barrel of a security guard’s gun. Had it not been for Oswald knocking the man over the head with a surely expensive vase, Ed might have died then and there.

»You do realize that in a few weeks from now, maybe a few months, I am the King of Gotham, do you?« Oswald grinned as he wrapped his arms around Edward’s neck and prompted him to stop moving on the ice altogether in fear of slipping and dragging Oswald down with him. Of course, that was only an excuse for Edward couldn't help but put his hands on his waist in return and draw him in even closer now.

»I do.« He smirked. Oswald’s breath so close to his own face almost made his glasses foggy. »You will look gorgeous on the throne.«

»So I’m not gorgeous now?«

»You will be more gorgeous.« Ed smirked. »But I keep wondering if you will be King of Gotham, what makes that me?«

Oswald paused a moment to ponder about Ed’s question as it seemed before he pulled Edward down at his neck to steal a sloppy kiss from his mouth. »We will always be conspirators.«

※※※※※※※

Some very well-bestowed young hostess on the small rabbit ear TV yelled the countdown to midnight in the dim light of their bedroom as Oswald stole a lazy premature kiss from his lips only to move back into his previous position again, curled up at Ed’s side. They had not even a bottle of champagne to celebrate the occasion and fact was also, that neither of them cared.

»You need a supervillain name.« The statement came so out of the blue that Edward tore his gaze from the crappy Television program where the young hostess with her bouncy blonde curls was currently still shouting the countdown while jumping up and down like a rabbit on LSD.

It was their last night in the small apartment above the tailor shop of a nice old lady - Mrs. Elliot. The entire building belonged to her after her husband had died suddenly - and very _tragically_ \- and left her with quite a lot of money. She even made a few suits for Oswald since they started living here as she was, apparently, quite fond of that ‘nice young gay couple in apartment 12’, as she referred to them when talking to her friends.

»A supervillain name?« Ed repeated confused but with a small chuckle.

Around them, the town erupted in celebrations and blondie on TV was hugging her co-host a little overly excited. They hadn't been invited to any parties and even if someone from work or the neighborhood would have invited them, they wouldn't have gone. They had spent the night in bed with crappy TV and cheese fondue, exactly as they had planned it. Everything was packed and ready to go. Even the bag with the money from their latest bank robbery.

There had been a time when Ed had never thought himself capable of something like this but Oswald had opened his eyes and made him see the potential that he truly had despite what he thought to be capable of. Tomorrow morning, before the sun would have risen, they would have left the apartment and this town and return to Gotham.

»Yes, a supervillain name. I mean everyone calls me the Penguin, right? And you certainly don't think that Fish’s real name is Fish, do you? So what's yours?«

He suddenly felt like a kid again. Wasn’t this something kids would think about when they would hang out with their friends? He had never experienced something like this. And he had never thought about it too. »I like riddles.« He hummed and Oswald snorted in a way that clearly said ‘you don't say’. »How about … How about _the Riddler_?«

There was this snort again but this time it sounded decidedly more amused. »The Riddler? Really?« He chuckled and shot him an amused smile as their eyes shortly met. The TV that was running in the background was by now only dull noise. None of them paid it any attention anyway. »I will not call you that.«

»You don't have to.« Ed smirked. »Only my enemies have to when they tremble in fear of the dreadful Riddler.«

»Then I should clearly never become your enemy.« Oswald huffed. »I could never bring myself to say this ridiculous name.«

Oswald’s new black suit hung ready on the closet door with his favorite purple vest and matching tie. He would look stunning by his return to Gotham. And everyone would soon realize that they were a force to be reckoned with.

Oswald rested with his head on his chest and drew idle little circles with his index finger on his bare skin by this point. Somewhere along the lines, they had decided that they didn't need clothes as they were lying in bed anyway all night. Between cheese fondue and some crappy new years eve countdown show, they had slept together only to return to the program at hand and repeat the whole thing again. By now, Oswald seemed completely exhausted the way he rested by his side. His new prosthesis leaned against Ed’s bedside table. He still had a bit of work to do on it, he decided. He needed to do something about the movement of the joints he had used and about the color. As soon as they would be back in Gotham, he would make it look as natural as possible.

But for now, he only pulled Oswald closer and wrapped his arm tighter around his lean frame. It had taken him months until Oswald was comfortable without his prosthesis around him. It had taken months for Ed to convince him that he was still beautiful to him and that he did not care for such a minor little flaw in his appearance.

»And you can trust Don Falcone?« Ed felt as if he had asked this very question a million times by now. The plan was risky and yet, Oswald knew the underworld of Gotham much better than Edward could ever hope to. He had lived this life, breathed it in, it was a part of him maybe even more so than it was part of Fish Mooney and her goons.

»Don't worry about it.« Oswald sighed. »I already told you that I spoke to him and cemented the plan. He is still wary, but he sees that I was right with everything I told him up until now and keeps a close eye on Nikolai the Russian and that girl Fish implemented in Don Falcone's household. Soon I will start working for Maroni and then, in no time, Fish will be history.«

It sounded all so easy and though the more cynical part of his brain wanted to tell him that and warn him to be more careful with his plans, he knew that this would be of great offense to Oswald. He made it sound easy and simple, but Ed knew that his husband was aware of the scale this plan had and the constant danger he would be in - _they_ would be in. When they would return to Gotham, he had to lay low, maybe return to his work at the GCPD.

»He trusts me.« Oswald smirked.  »You’ll see. First, I will get Maroni to acknowledge my existence, then I work my way up to the top of his organization while I tell Falcone what he needs to know to beat Maroni.« As Ed looked down at Oswald now, their eyes met and it was then that he realized that there was no going back. His heartbeat quickened with excitement and the dark voice in the back of his mind rejoiced. »I told Jim Gordon that there was a war coming back on that day at the pier, you know? I didn't tell him that I am the one bringing this war to Gotham.«  

 

**-End of Chapter 8-**


End file.
